Gimme Mah Chocolate, Foo!
by My Sublunary Soul
Summary: Crackfic? No. Don't be ridiculous. This is a perfectly respectable collection of many oneshot, possibly twoshot, happenings at the Wammy House. Mello-mazing rants, Near-rific lethargy, and Matt-tastic nonsense guaranteed. Rated T for spunkiness.
1. Decimated

**Note:** Each one/twoshot can stand alone for the most part, so when there are more chapters, feel free to jump around. Also, moods between chapters are liable to change. In fact, they will almost definitely change. Some may be funny -- or at least intended to be -- and some may be nothing but the fluffy stuff. Just a warning, sort of. And as for spoilers: the characters' real names are bound to show up.

The authoress has SPOKEN!

Death Note doesn't belong to me. "This," is spoken, and _'This,'_ is a thought.

* * *

**"Gimme Mah Chocolate, Foo'!"**  
Documentary 1: Decimated

**--x--**

**Date:** June 3  
**Time:** Sunday Afternoon  
**Age Span**: Mello - 7, Matt - 7, Near - 5

**--x--**

Mello was the self-appointed hand of discipline at the Wammy House. Well, not like a hall monitor or teacher or anything -- no, he couldn't care less if you streaked through the halls in your underwear, breaking every piece of furniture that obstructs your path. In fact, he would be the first to applaud.

Actually, Mello had his own, unspoken rules of charter that all Wammy inhabitants must conform to -- older children, younger children, and even the adults. Why? Well, it's simple. Amongst all the gifted and talented children at the orphanage, Mello was the smartest, the strongest, the fastest, and the _scariest_; basically, he was the best form of life there. Thus...

**-x-**

**The Ten Dictations of Mello:**

**1)** Thou must never approach the Mello, unless first approached by Him. Transgressors will be threatened with decimation.

**2)** Thou must never look the Mello directly in the eye. Transgressors will be threatened with decimation.

**3)** Thou must never speak whilst the Mello is speaking. Transgressors will be threatened with decimation.

**4)** Thou must never touch the Mello in any way, shape, or form unless directed thus. Transgressors will be threatened with decimation.

**5)** Thou must never linger in the presence of the Mello further than the time appointed by Him. Transgressors will be threatened with decimation.

**6)** Thou must never enter the domain of the Mello without first consulting Him -- or his accomplice, the Matt. Transgressors will be threatened with decimation.

**7)** Thou must never prod, poke, stroke, nor by any means touch the stuffs of the Mello. Transgressors will be threatened with decimation.

**8)** Thou must never press upon the personal matters of the Mello. Transgressors will be threatened with decimation.

**9)** Thou must never inquire upon the gender of the Mello. Transgressors will be swiftly decimated.

**10)** Thou must never, ever, _EVER_ eat of the chocolate set aside for the sole consumption of the Mello. Transgressors will be _immediately_ and **painfully** decimated.

**-x-**

Needless to say, the residents of Wammy were more than happy to obey this set of laws. Everyone could go about their business as usual, with the added bonus of a future free of "decimation" by Mello (for the most part).

Or, rather, that's how things used to be. Until Near came.

* * *

**Arrival of a Rival**

**--x--**

It was a day like any other: quiet, empty, and indifferent.

Mello lay sprawled across the bedroom floor, picking at stray strands of yarn from the rug. The warm summer sunlight drifted soundlessly into the room through wide, unveiled windows. Mello stared blankly at the sky beyond, muttering aloud to himself that he was bored. Where had Matt run off to? Worthless slave. He should've been back with his chocolate by now.

Scraping himself off the hardwood floor, Mello shook out his hair and padded into the hallway. Instantly, the noise of crowded children exiting the lunch room assaulted his ears. Mello scowled and closed the door of his quiet sanctuary behind him.

Kids cluttered the hall. Those in Mello's path quickly stepped aside (in respect to those ten rules mentioned previously), and as he pushed through the crowd, Mello heard little snippets of the conversations flying around him. It annoyed him to no end.

"OMG! That is the ugliest orange skirt EVER!!" screamed Missy.

"Oh, yeah, and that PINK _really_ suits you!" Thursday shrieked.

"...yeah, and I heard that another bunch of new kids were dropped off today... Nick saw the bus..."

"Excuse me."

Safari was spazzing out again. "Hey, did you catch WWF last night?? Oh man, The Rock was all like, 'EUURGHH!' and the Undertaker was all like, 'YARRRGH!!' and they were all, like, rippin' each other apart! It was just like... SO great! And--"

Metre, forced to listen to his rant, began inching away very slowly.

"_Excuse me_."

"--so then Abacus kicked down Roger's door an' ran right outta detention!"

"Lyk omg Matt is lyk soooo kewt nd evrytihng but lyk he's alwyas wif taht blond kid an hes relly scari!" Serendipity read aloud as she texted her friend Shannon (who, by the way, was only three kids to her left).

"Excuse me!"

There was a quick, oh-so-slight tug at Mello's black shirt from behind. The blonde boy whipped around, ready to beat this "toucher" inside-out. But as he turned, his arm recoiled at the sight of a child he did not recognize.

"Excuse me," the small, pale boy in the baggy grey T-shirt repeated. The frail little thing looked up at Mello with great, wide eyes that were oddly apathetic. "Could you show me where Mr. Roger's office is?"

Mello's moment of surprise subsided, and his eyes hardened. "And just _why_ should I bother doing tha--"

"I'm lost," the boy stated. He reached out boldly and took Mello's hand in his own, waiting expectantly (arrogantly, Mello thought) for his request to be fulfilled.

The blonde fury glared at him and threw his hand away. He continued to glare, waiting for the new kid to take a hint and back off. He did not.

"You don't know where it is?" the kid asked quietly, twirling one slim finger into his curly mess of white hair. He didn't budge. Didn't even cower. What was with this kid?

"I KNOW where it is, ya little creep! But I'm NOT gonna waste my time takin' YOU there!" Mello exploded, shoving the kid out of his way and stampeding down the hall. The area was too crowded for any of the adults to notice that Mello had lashed out, again, at another child.

"But I'm lost..." Mello heard the kid murmur, shuffling off to ask someone else.

**--x--**

_(Near's Progress)  
Rules 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 concerning approach, eye contact, speech, touch, and stalling: __**successfully ignored**._

* * *

**The Enmity Grows**

**--x--**

Thrusting the doors of the kitchen open, Mello stomped up to the fridge and pilfered an armful of chocolate bars. He slipped through the back door into a vacant hall, stealthily avoiding any adults that may chance to pass by. While meandering through the orphanage, Mello discovered Matt in the living room, pockets overflowing with chocolate. He had been (and still was) distracted by the medium-sized TV that was currently airing some kind of stupid wrestling show. Safari and Metre were on either side of him, screaming in bouts of unintelligible jargon every time someone got beaten over the head with a chair.

Hm. Beating people with metal chairs... that appealed to Mello very much. He stored the idea of this new bullying tactic away in his mind, planning an appropriate time to use this newfound skill on his victims. Maybe he'd even practice on Matt; it looked like fun.

"MATT!" Mello roared, his mood swinging back to perpetual anger. "I ordered you to be back at the room within TEN minutes with my chocolate! You _better_ hope they ain't melted yet!"

Matt sighed and twisted his head to face the doorway. Really, sometimes his so-called "best friend" was just so demanding... "But _Mello_," the redhead explained imploringly, "this is the season special of WWF and I already missed half of it. Can't I just watch the rest here? I didn't wanna make you mad by watching it in our room, 'cuz you said you don't like wrestling..."

"Matt, I'm ALREADY mad."

The redhead opened his mouth to protest again, but Mello grabbed him by the back of his shirt and literally dragged him out of the room, making the melted chocolate in Matt's back pocket smear against his bottom and run all over the carpet.

Safari and Metre didn't even notice the commotion. Their eyes were glued to the TV set.

**--x--**

The two boys wandered down the now-empty hall and made their way towards their shared dorm room. Mello had calmed down significantly after realizing that Matt had gotten chocolate stains on his butt, thus laughing all his anger away. Matt, ever unfazed, simply pulled a gameboy from his pocket (the one devoid of chocolate, of course) and started a new game of Pokemon.

Mello was still chortling inwardly at Matt's butt stains as he turned the knob of their door, enjoying his blissfully peaceful state of mind.

Only to find that pale boy from before sitting on his bed.

Matt looked up from his gameboy and stared dumbly at the pale child. Face, features, personality... nope, it didn't register with him. This must be a new kid.

Mello stood in the doorway, his peaceful state of mind slowly regressing into anger. With all the eloquence of one his age, Mello addressed the boy, "What the CRAP are you doing in _MY ROOM_??"

"Roger put me in this room... you're Mello and Matt, right? Can I have this top bunk?" the boy replied calmly.

"GET THE HELL OFF MY BED!!"

Little Creep, as Mello called him, sighed and slid off the top bunk, climbing carefully down the ladder on the side. "My name is Near, by the way," Little Creep said, shuffling over to the empty single bed at the other side of the room.

"I don't _care_," Mello seethed, dropping all his stolen chocolate on Matt's bottom-bunk bed.

"Hi Near," Matt mumbled, making no effort to acknowledge Mello's outrage and going over to his closet to find a change of pants.

Near fixed Matt with a strange look once he turned his back to him, but the boy chose not to inquire about Matt's butt stains (out of courtesy). He did, however, ask, "Mello? What are all the candy bars for?"

"_WHAT_, can't I enjoy my WELL-EARNED chocolate in peace without getting interrogated in _my own room_??" Mello shouted, rebelliously shredding the wrappers of three bars and shoving them all into his mouth at once.

Near blinked a couple times, watching Mello as he practically inhaled his sixth bar. "Uh, well, I guess so... it's just that..."

Mello exploded again. "Just _what_, huh? WHAT, smartguy?! You think I'm gonna get **fat**, or something? YOU CALLIN' ME FAT?!"

"It's just that... well... you've eaten about as much chocolate in one sitting as a pregnant lady."

The room fell silent.

"...hehe... heh... mmphhmhmhmh... pff... BAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAAA!" Matt tripped over his own pulled-down pants and fell all over himself, bursting into the laughter that he had been trying so hard to hold back.

Near ignored the redhead and looked at Mello innocently. "Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your fee--"

Out of nowhere, Mello ignited into a roaring, flailing beast of a child and seized Near by the hair, dragging him to the door and using his superior, rabid strength to forcefully fling him down the hall. "SHORTY, IF YOU SO MUCH AS **THINK** ABOUT COMIN' IN MAH ROOM AGAIN, _HEADS_-_WILL_-_ROLL_!!" This proclaimed, Mello slammed the door and locked it three times. Yes, Mello has three locks. For you see, he truly values his privacy.

**--x--**

_(Near's Progress)  
Rules 6, 7, 8, and 9 concerning personal space, personal items, personal matters, and personal gender: __**completely disregarded**._

* * *

**Enemy's Advocate: Linda Valentine**

**--x--**

Near, massaging his abused scalp, rolled over and huddled up next to the wall. Was it something he said?

As the little boy dwelled upon the misfortune of getting thrown out of his own room (literally), it just so happened that, at that moment, a young girl around Mello's age turned the corner of the hall and noticed a pale splotch against the red carpet. Curious as always, Linda walked over to investigate.

"Oh my gosh!" she gasped, observing Near's pale, bruised, and slightly bleeding state.

Near looked up to see a girl with strawberry blonde hair, pulled into pigtails, looking down at him with over-sympathetic blue eyes. He blinked. "Who are you?" he muttered quietly.

The girl seemed not to hear him and continued to stare. Then she shook her head scornfully. "It was Mello, wasn't it? He did this to you, right? C'mon, I'll take you to Roger, and he'll get back at him for you!" The girl took Near by the wrist and pulled him up, dragging him down the hall without waiting for his reply.

"I'm fine, really," Near retorted coldly, stiffening at her touch.

"You're right... we should go to the nurse first!" she exclaimed. Linda, with her amazingly selective hearing, turned around and dragged him the other way.

"Stop that," Near said, annoyed, trying to shake her off.

"Oh, and you've got blood all over your shirt! You know, I have a set of pajamas that I never use, so you can have them," she said. (It would seem that she was ignoring him entirely now.) Dragging Near to the left side of the hall -- as opposed to the right side, which is the boys' side -- she opened a door to some random room and shoved him into the unknown.

**--x--**

Twenty minutes later, after Linda had successfully fished out her old pair of white pajamas and a band-aid box, Near sat compliantly on her puffy pink carpet and itched at one of the band-aids she had forced upon him. When she had seen to it that Near was comfortable and safe, the girl promptly stood and walked out the door, explaining that she would now go to fetch Roger. Near breathed a sigh of rare relief when she left, only to see Linda walk back into the room two seconds later.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot! Mrs. Butterworth gave me some candy for being good in class today, and I was gonna eat it, but... well, you can have it! What's your name again?"

"Near," he replied, accepting the sweets and refraining from mentioning that this was actually only the first time he had told her his name. Oh well. She would just forget it in about six seconds, anyway.

Linda left, again, and Near waited to see if she would return. Several minutes later, he concluded that it was finally safe to leave this freakish palace of girldom. Trekking carefully to the door, Near took a shifty-eyed peek into the hall and then carefully slid through the doorway. Glancing about, he saw that the corridor was comfortingly empty and began to sift through Linda's generous handful of candy. Among the treats was a single, milk chocolate candy bar. Near noted casually that it looked just like the ones that Mello had, then proceeded to unravel the wrapper of a Tootsie Roll.

**--x--**

The ten-year-old brunette fell to the side, wailing in pain and clutching his leg. Another opponent decimated.

Mello tore down the field, dribbling the soccer ball with an abundance of fury-fueled energy. It was the norm at the Wammy House for Mello to stroll down to the field once in a while and butt into a game of soccer, football, baseball, or whatever they happened to be enjoying at the moment. Afterwards, the game usually ended in victory for Mello... and various pains for anyone else. Actually, it was a wonder that the kids didn't think to run the other way whenever they saw him coming. Frozen in fear, maybe?

"MATT!" Mello roared, kicking the ball vigorously to his partner. As soon as Matt received the pass and started heading toward the goal, Mello whipped around and leapt at several boys coming his way, tackling them into a pool of conveniently-placed mud.

"Hey! There's no _tackling_ in soccer!" Thursday protested from the sidelines.

"Shh, it might hear you..." hushed Friday, Thursday's twin sister.

**--x--**

It was all over in a matter of minutes. Matt scored, Mello danced, and everybody else limped to the nurse's office.

Once inside, Mello took the opportunity to gloat profusely. "That was a _great_ play, huh? Those losers, they didn't even have a chance! Agree with me, Matt."

"Yeah, Mello... didn't even have a chance..." Matt repeated offhandedly, tapping the buttons on his gameboy.

"Yeah! And remember when Dimitri and Yo-Yo were all like, kickin' their lil sissy passes? But then I ran over, kicked both of 'em down, and stole the ball! Agree with me, Matt."

"Right, Mello... lil sissy passes..."

"Right! Oooh, and then there was that time when that one girl tripped all over herself, and what's-his-face like, _sat_ on her?! Agree with me, Matt."

"Yes, Mello... what's-her-name and whose-a-ma-whatsit..."

"Yup! And--" Mello stopped. Matt, who had been following close behind with his attention diverted, walked into Mello. The redhead looked up, surprised, when Mello didn't backhand him immediately for invading his personal space.

**--x--**

**Oh, my god. **_**No**_** frickin' way.**

There was Near, sitting once more in front of Mello's door, eating... what seemed to be...

...one of the bars of chocolate set aside for the sole consumption of the Mello.

* * *

**The Last Dictation**

**--x--**

_**OMFG-WTF-LMAO-NOWAI-STFU-STM-BBQ!!1!!11!**_

Mello lunged forward, tackling Near to the ground and sending the half-eaten chocolate bar flying across the floor. Mello proceeded to strangle poor little Near, who was silent with shock before panicking and twisting about wildly in an attempt to breathe. After some moments of standing in a confused daze, Matt ran over to Mello and tried to pry him off, unable to comprehend the gravity of Near's mistake.

"Stoppit, Mello! It was _just_ a candy bar! I promise I'll get you another one!!" Matt cried.

"GRAAARRRGGHLLLRRAAAHH!!" Mello bellowed, suddenly foaming at the mouth.

Fortunately (well, maybe not), Linda and Roger came just in time to witness the commotion. Linda screamed and ran over, unhelpfully trying to kick and punch the raging torrent of blonde. Roger only sighed and rubbed his temples, as if exhausted already. He stepped back and watched the scene at a safe distance. This was why he hated kids.

Eventually, Near broke free and pushed past everyone else, locking himself frantically in Mello and Matt's room. Mello foamed and growled some more, clawing at the door in a beast-like manner. He heard the three locks click into place, and then engaged in a one-way cussing war with the door.

**--x--**

_(Near's Progress)  
Rule 10, of critical importance, concerning the sacred chocolate of the Mello: __**spontaneously combusted**._

**--x--**

Some time later, Near woke up to an immaculately white room, darkened by the fall of night and sprinkled with the unfamiliar scent of sterile gloves. He tried to recall the memories of what had happened... something about a wild, yellow-haired animal... a door falling down on him... and then nothingness. When he tried to massage his aching cranium, he found that he was completely immobile, with his limbs and body restricted in some sort of casing.

Little Near frowned, lost in his misery and discomfort. What had he done to deserve this?

The answer came disturbingly soon.

"Hello, _Near_..." hissed a voice from within the recesses of the dark room. Near shuddered inwardly.

The breath expelled by this voice was heavy with the unmistakable scent of... chocolate.

* * *

**From the Author:** Concept of decimation inspired by Mikami Teru's eliminate-happy mindframe. :D Yes, and I did make up a last name for Linda... whom the readers probably don't even know/care about, since she wasn't mentioned in the anime and didn't really make an appearance in the manga. Still, she's going to come up in this story a lot, so you may as well familiarize with her. (If Mello has Matt, why can't Near have a lackey too?)

Also, in Mello's string of texty curses -- most of which I think the reader will understand without the aid of an explanation -- "STM" stands for "spank the monkey". Yeah... I saw it on the internet once and just decided to throw that in there. Along with some barbeque.

Now see? That wasn't a crackfic _at all_. Reviews would be nice, though. :)


	2. Phantasmagoria

**Note:** HALLOWEEN STORY?! _ONE MONTH LATE_?!

Scandalous.

Okay, I know. I haven't updated in a looong, long time, and I'm truly sorry. I just wanted to say thanks to all the readers and reviewers from before -- it was heart-warming to know that people actually liked my crackfic! Er, I mean... precious manuscript... But again, I am so, _so_ sorry for being such a "slow-as-the-flames-of-hell" updater.

Seriously. Thank you. And I hope I don't disappoint in the future.

Now then, this story is a bit different from the one before; it's chapter one of a mini-series... _within_ this entire series of one-shots... if that makes any sense at all. Well, no, it doesn't. But in time, you'll see what I mean.

Death Note doesn't belong to me. "This," is spoken, and _'This,'_ is a thought.

* * *

**"Gimme Mah Chocolate, Foo'!"**  
_Pumpkin Chronicles_  
Memory 1: Phantasmagoria

**--x--**

There is ever and always a place in the midst of childhood which means the most to a person. To a child. It is a certain, specific "place" that can derive its meaningfulness from... anything. Perhaps the old playground, where the white, soft sand spanning the length of the floor seems to have retained and preserved all the whimsical indentures, footprints, or shifty drawings of seasons past; where the very wood and framework of each play thing strikes a toll of reminiscence through its seemingly innocuous scrapes, creaks, holes, and marring of the wood. Everything about that place -- the usual blue-seated swing, second-to-the-left; that old oak tree stump, withered on the edge of the sand; those too-high monkey bars you could never seem to conquer -- everything is familiar, and everything conceals its deep, resounding meaning with the gentle veil of childhood play.

Well, the Wammy House never had a playground. Or if it did, it wasn't important enough to matter, so for all we know it didn't. No, for little Near and those few children associated with him, that "place" of childhood, the point at which their memories convened...

That was the pumpkin patch.

The one far beyond the orphanage on a tiny abandoned farm, isolated from the rest of humanity.

That was where Near stood now, eighteen years into the world, to honor the deaths of those few who had been associated with him.

**--x--**

**Date:** October 31  
**Time:** Wednesday Night  
**Age Span**: Mello - 7, Matt - 7, Near - 6

**--x--**

It was Halloween, and the Wammy House was alive with festivity.

Normally, holidays were not heavily regarded in the orphanage; it was, after all, an institution created for the purpose of facilitating the development of genius minds. There was ever and always a rigid schedule of ongoing classes, lectures, examinations, competitions, etc., leaving little room in the works for days of "idyllic, mindless fun-having," as Roger liked to put it.

But Halloween was special: it was L's birthday. L, that mysterious figurehead of the orphanage who was not the founder, not a funder, and not connected with the place at all, really, as far as Near could see. But Halloween was L's birthday, and the entire orphanage was caught up in celebrations for the day, because L willed it thus.

However, Near was... not fond of large gatherings of people. Especially not when it involved loud, screechy Halloween music, ridiculously pointless games, obnoxious costumes, and corny (though allegedly scary) stories. So Near sat outside.

Alone, this pensive seven-year-old passed the time by fiddling with a small lock of white hair and pushing around the scattered leaves left sitting near the orphanage gates. It was a starless night tonight, with a new, invisible moon hanging somewhere in the sky. Near sighed, resting his head against the cold, steel bars of the gates. How long had it been since he first arrived at Wammy's? About... two months now? And what a boring two months it had been.

The wind picked up a little, and Near huddled into himself, clutching his little blue sweater. Lazily, he watched the autumn breeze sweep up a flight of leaves, twirling them theatrically in the air, and direct them across the lawn to some position away from Near. There wasn't much to do, really. The boy inwardly sighed and -- my _goodness_ that wind was strong -- held himself closer to fend off the crisp cold of a late October night.

Really. Why was the wind so strong today? Well... not strong, perhaps, but... persistent. Those leaves that had been lifted before danced ceremonially above the ground, defying gravity and having stayed airborne for at least several minutes now.

Curious, Near stood slowly, inching toward the floating leaves. He was, admittedly, afraid. Those leaves continued to hover above ground in some kind of jocund dance, blowing about every which way, but never stopping their rhythmic motion--

"**HEY**, _CREAMPUFF_! WHUR YOU AT?"

Mello.

The aforementioned blonde had slammed the door open, causing the wood to crash into the wall behind it and ricochet. The sudden crack of wood -- as well as an exploding, eight-year-old voice -- broke the peace of the night. Broke the magic of the leaves. And it seemed that the fluorescent lights and unruly noise which bursted forth from the now-open door was steadily displacing the stillness and enchantment of the autumn air.

The leaves swirled for a moment, then fell numbly to the ground.

"Oh, THERE you are. _Say something_ next time, wouldja?! ...Hey. HEY! What're you staring at?!" Mello stomped indignantly across the lawn, inadvertently crushing all the leaves thereat, and stuck a waving hand in front of Near's face.

Near pushed the hand away lightly, finally noticing Mello's face which hovered several inches from his own. "Oh... Mello... you're here."

The blonde rolled his eyes. "Well, aren't _you_ perceptive? Look, Roger made me come find you 'cuz L's here and he wants-- hey! NEAR! Shorty, you better get back here RIGHT NOW or I will _personally_ unleash a can of whoop on your ass! **NEAR**!!"

Suddenly, a new wind had picked up new leaves, and they were rolling in that rhythmic motion again: rolling in a way that seemed to beckon Near to follow. So he darted after them, and, naturally, Mello took this as an insult. The blonde gave chase as well.

It was almost frightening how well Near sped about in this opaque darkness, ingeniously dodging trees and running as if the devil himself were after him. ...Well, actually, Mello _was_ after him... but you know what I mean.

They had started by dashing into the woods next to Wammy's, through the large clearing that served as a sports field for the orphanage, and into a much thicker wood, beyond the limits of the children's sanctuary. Mello was shocked at Near's speed; he had never actually _seen_ Near run before -- not even from him, because Near never ran away like the other kids when Mello threw a fit -- but he had always assumed that the fluffball would be, like... you know, slow-as-the-flames-of-hell.

But hey, what do you expect from little "I'm-a- mister-perfect-pants"??

Again, Mello took this as an insult. He picked up speed and began his own silent competition to outrun Near, no longer bothering to dodge the various branches and things in his way -- he simple grabbed, ripped, and smashed whatever stood in his path.

However, Near had very little stamina (compared to the rambunctious Mello, at least) and he really couldn't run much longer. Frankly, he was pooped.

But the leaves! They just kept rolling ahead, balanced in the air by some unseen force. Near wasn't sure if it was just him, or if Mello could see them too. If so, the blonde didn't show any indication of acknowledgement. Of course, it _was_ possible that Mello was simply blinded by his own stupid, over-competitive, delusional thoughts -- which was extremely likely -- and he _would_ be able to see the leaves if he'd just stop being so maniacal.

Then again... what if only Near could see the leaves? What if he was just hallucinating, and the two young children -- a dangerous distance growing between them and the orphanage -- were foolishly losing themselves in this unnavigable strip of woodland? After all, this chase was totally frivolous. There was absolutely no point in chasing after a bunch of dead leaves.

And yet, Near could see it before his eyes. This phenomenon was there, undeniably real, taunting him to know more...

Near stopped.

* * *

**Strangest are the Subtle Things**

**--x--**

Mello didn't.

The little white cottonball just stopped, out of nowhere, and Mello had built up far too much momentum to prevent slamming into the child, causing the both of them to plunge into the woodland floor of dead leaves and rotting twigs. Mello rolled over painfully, spatting out a disgusting heap of leaves and dirt. Near, having taken the brunt of the blow, sat up slowly and rubbed his forehead.

"You son-of-a -- WHAT THE HELL?! So you **drag me **all the way out here for _no apparent reason_ and just STOP? Now I'm all covered in dirt and crap and it's ALL YOUR FAULT! Look!! I already see a bruise on my--"

"Mello. Please. Shut _up_." Near stood promptly, dusted himself off, and walked forward with quiet, mindful steps.

Mello, torn between shock and rage, sat and said nothing. For once.

Near reached out and touched something. "This is..." the boy began. Curse this moonless night -- Mello couldn't see what it was. He was surprised that Near could.

"...corn."

"_What?_ Corn? In the middle of the woods??" Mello stood abruptly and marched over. Peering at the plant closely, he could just make out the contours of the leaf and... yup, it was corn. "Huh. So it is." Mello shoved his hand blindly into the little crowd of corn stalks and yanked out an ear of the stuff. He proceeded then to rip off the husks and devour it.

"...So you_ eat_ it?" Near commented, looking at Mello as though he were some kind of raving idiot.

"What? It's good. I'm hungry." He ate some more.

Near kept giving him that _look_, then shook his head and began pushing his way through the tall corn stalks. Before, he had seen the floating leaves go limp in the spot where Mello had crashed into him... and his curiosity probably should have stopped there. Now though, he was curious about the random growth of corn that seemed to sprout up, as previously mentioned, right in the middle of the woods. Mello eventually finished his corn and pursued him.

"Near,_ WHERE_ are we going? Seriously. If you say we're lost, I'll destroy you -- I swear."

"'_We_?' Oh my. I wasn't aware that you were accompanying me, Mello," Near replied with mock innocence. It was infuriating.

Mello growled and pushed past him spitefully, going on ahead. The woods slowly dissolved as the two moved onward. The population of corn was far denser now, and it seemed that the few straggling plants they had found before were only the tip of the iceberg; the two of them were now plowing through a field.

"UHH. When does this thing _end_??" Mello snapped impatiently, referring, of course, to the field.

"I don't know," Near replied quietly, simply walking in the path of parted plants that Mello left behind, "but don't you think it strange that there would be corn all of a sudden, planted right next to the woods?"

"Mmm... looks to me like some old, abandoned farmer's field. I' unno. Can we just get out of here, first?!" Mello retorted.

The corn field was thinning. In the distance, Near could see some weathered-looking bunches of straw dotting the edge of a clearing, along with what looked to be a large pumpkin patch. He could only assume that these were old reaps of harvest, abandoned along with the rest of the farm. Perhaps there was some sort of shelter nearby.

"Mello. If we find a barn or a farmhouse, let's just stay there for the night. It's too late to head back... Mello?"

The blonde's gaze was transfixed on something in the distance; something that his albino companion could not see. Near noticed Mello's steps becoming increasingly slower, as if he were gradually being hypnotized by that "something" that he saw. When Mello finally stilled, Near placed a semi-concerned hand on his arm and looked up at his companion's blue-eyed face. He didn't notice when the gentlest of winds sailed through the air, carrying some old leaves and debris across the way, some of it landing in Mello's wafting blonde locks. His hair looked nearly as silver as Near's in the moonlight.

The... the moonlight?

I thought there was no moon tonight.

So that was it. Mello saw it near the horizon, and Near hadn't noticed it at first, because the moon just seemed like a natural part of the landscape. What was a creepy, abandoned corn field without a full moon to add effect? But that was besides the point. There was a moon now where there was none before... and it was... almost... frightening.

"Mello..." Near clasped the black-sleeved arm tighter, just ever-so-slightly. "Maybe we should leave. I don't -- I -- it -- it's cold. It's cold, and I want to go back to the orphanage now. And... Roger's probably..." He trailed off quietly as Mello shook off his grasp and marched forward.

* * *

**The Masquerade of Wraiths**

**--x--**

It was a dream. It had to be.

It had caught him by surprise to see that full moon just above the horizon -- not in the zenith of the night, but just above the division of earth and sky. Mello wasn't sure how long it had been there, but there it was, watching them like the silver eye of heaven. After snapping at Near that one last time, he happened to glance in its general direction and, at once, noticed something strange about it... Well, you see, it hadn't been there before.

It was the strangest thing, and (though he'd never admit it) a sudden, inexplicable fear began to penetrate the blonde, weighing down his steps. But then, something far stranger happened -- he barely noticed it, it was so light -- a little breeze picked up and he felt some tiny leaf or something touch upon his head.

And it was like -- bam!

Life. Fire. Wraithlike phantoms rained down in a haphazard, though somehow beautiful descent; like the descent of fallen angels. They would light upon the ground and gather around the fire -- where exactly had that _come_ from anyway? -- dancing in phatasmagoric sequences, made even more surreal by the heat waves circulating about the colossal flames. There seemed to be some kind of scarecrow in the middle -- that is, if a scarecrow could move and laugh and make dramatic gestures -- right inside the bonfire, acting as though it were the master of ceremony. It was a dream. It had to be.

And yet, Mello could see it before his eyes. This phenomenon was there, undeniably real, taunting him to know more...

Mello proceeded.

Near didn't.

**--x--**

The blonde began marching toward the scene. It was held in a clearing beyond the cornfield -- held in what seemed to be an overgrown vegetable garden. Ducking behind one of the larger pumpkins, Mello peered cautiously around the orange fruit(?) and took a closer look at the dancing eidolons. It was even more mesmerizing up close; it was so beautiful, yet so sinister. Heart-stopping.

Mello wanted to join in. Exotic, strange, and dangerous were right up his alley. He padded forward, forgetting all fear and inhibitions, advancing toward the party. They didn't seem to notice him. He didn't dare step into the circle of phantoms around the fire, not right away at least. There were several of the wraithlike creatures lounging around on pumpkins a short distance from the fire. Mello approached one who, as it saw him coming, turned and smiled. It was the scariest thing.

"Hey, hey kid. Ain't it past your bedtime?" the smiling demon said.

Indignant, Mello marched right up to its pumpkin and retorted, "No! How old do you think I am -- three?! I don't need no bedtime!"

"Oh-ho, so we got a big boy here, eh? Tell ya what, why don't you turn around an' head home, and I'll escort you along the way, kid? It's not good for you to be here while we're having our _feast_."

"Feast...?"

"Don't you know what day it is, kid? All Hallow's Eve, you humans call it. Well, it's like party time for our kind, you know." That thing just kept smiling. It reminded him vaguely of a psychotic child molester.

Mello squinted one eye inquisitively. "Your kind? What _is_ your kind, exactly?"

"Ahh... you'll figure it out when you're older."

Mello pressed on. "And what? You eat humans or something?" he asked brazenly.

"Eat humans? Hah! Haha! Nah, kid, humans just tend to ruin the mood. What makes you think we'd wanna eat somethin' so fatty anyway? Sheesh, you humans are so conceited..."

Mello wanted to give some kind of angry quip to that, but the resounding chime of a far-off bell interrupted his speech. Silenced the festivities. Halted the world -- at least for the 1, 2, 3... 12 chimes of its thundering toll.

**--x--**

"Mello..."

Suddenly, Near was at his side, clutching his arm again and trembling softly.

_'Ah. Forgot about the brat.'_

Mello rolled his eyes and looked back to the -- it was gone. All of it. The specters, the fire, the moon... The night was still and silent, trying to play off a look of innocence. But there was no doubt that...

"Don't walk off by yourself like that. Who were you talking to just now?" demanded the little white pest, his voice betraying none of the anxiety that he had felt during the absence of his blonde companion.

"Are you stupid? Didn't you see the big, child-molester-lookin' thing on that pumpkin?"

"..._What_?"

Near gave him another "look."

The blonde became impatient. "Uh, _you know_, one of the hundred or so demented things that were flying everywhere and dancing around that huge-ass fire??" he said, the tone of his voice indicating that it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Near's look turned to something akin to concern. Mello wasn't sure, it was always hard to tell with Near, but that semblance of emotion was genuine and made him uneasy.

"Mello. There is no fire; there are no demons. There never were..."

That simple, matter-of-fact statement had a profound effect on Mello. There was no fire? Nonsense. He had gotten close enough to feel its radiating heat against his skin. There were no demons? That's silly -- who else could he have been talking to? And yet, he found that strange fear fermenting in him again.

"What about... what about the moon?"

"Oh yes, I saw that. I suppose it had just risen late tonight. Where did it go just now -- behind a cloud? Oh, well, such a late moonrise is rather uncommon, but it's not unheard of. At least, I don't think so."

Just that shade of doubt was enough to scare him.

"Mello? You look a little shaken. Are you--"

"I'm fine, okay?! Let's just... let's just head back to Wammy's now."

Near sighed and released the blonde's arm. "No, like I was saying before, it's too late for that. They've probably realized we're gone by now and are out looking for us..."

"SO WHAT? What're we supposed to do -- sit here and just _TWIDDLE OUR THUMBS_?!"

"Simply put, yes. And don't get so upset, it's not a big deal."

"You little --! URGH! This is YOUR FAULT, Near! We wouldn't be stuck out here if it weren't for YOU and your crazy little... nighttime-stroll urges! Now we're _stuck here_ until they find us or -- or until--"

"Until what, Mello? What are you so afraid of?" the younger boy asked placidly.

Mello silenced and glared at him. Then he replied, seethingly,

"I _hate_ you, Near."

The blonde decidedly marched off several feet, plopped on the ground, crossed his arms, and leaned against a large pumpkin, looking away.

Near looked at the ground and fiddled with his hair somewhat guiltily. Well... it_ was_ kinda his fault. And although Mello seemed to be freaking out for no apparent reason -- which in itself wasn't unusual -- Near did feel the need to reconcile. Hesitatingly, the pale boy shuffled over and sat on the opposite side of Mello's pumpkin. (He was careful to leave a significant distance between them, in case Mello decided to get violent.)

"Sorry."

There was no immediate answer, but eventually... "_What?_"

"Sorry. For getting us lost out here in the middle of nowhere." Near wanted to look around the pumpkin and say it to his face, but he knew better than to offer Mello the opportunity to crush his skull. Near did want to see him, though.

"...Yeah... well... You better be sorry."

"I am."

There was silence then, because Mello didn't reply and Near didn't know what else he was supposed to say. Anyway, it was late, and the little one soon grew tired. He yawned quietly and slid down the pumpkin, using it as a pillow while he curled into a semi-comfortable position. But, well, how comfortable can you really get while sleeping on cold dirt with a hard, rock-like pillow under your head? Not so comfortable. Even so, Near had almost drifted off to sleep when he heard Mello shifting behind him.

A blonde-framed face peered down at Near from over the pumpkin.

"You asleep, Shorty?"

"Almost..." he murmured.

The face slipped behind the pumpkin again and disappeared. After a moment, Near could see a figure crawling around the side of the pumpkin, appearing to hesitate when it reached Near.

Then all hell broke loose.

Mello scooped little Near into his arms and settled down beside him.

"...Mello...? What are you..."

"GO TO SLEEP, YOU ANNOYING BRAT!" the blonde exploded, hiding his pink embarassment over Near's head, which rested against his chest.

"...Okay. I understand," Near encircled Mello with his small, delicate arms, returning the embrace. "I don't know what you think you saw, but there's really nothing to be afraid of..."

"Whatever..." the older one mumbled, shifting closer.

"Oh, Mello, one more thing."

"_What_, already?" grouched the sleepy blonde.

"There's something in your hair." Mello felt a small hand brush against the top of his head. "Okay, gone."

"...Well? What was it?"

"Nothing. Just a little piece of paper."

* * *

**The Wind in the Night**

**--x--**

Hours later, unknown to the fast-asleep children, a little wind picked up and settled near their pumpkin, noticeable only by the various leaves and things that shifted about wherever it went.

"Huhuhuhuhu... Humans are truly interesting," the breath of wind seemed to say.

Perhaps, if the wind had an identity of some sort, it would be smiling down at the two small children. Perhaps, if the wind had feeling, it would have decided that it liked the little white one, and that the yellow-headed one was amusing. Perhaps, if that wind had any sentience, it would recognize these two children again, many years later, though not together and not the same.

_But when we meet again -- if we meet again -- we may not know that you are you, and I am me._

That wind seemed to stay there, mounted on that pumpkin, standing guard over these two human pups. And then, just as the sun began to seep into the Earth's atmosphere, the wind (if it did indeed have identity, and feeling, and sentience) saw more humans come along and take the pups, rejoicing at their find. They were safe now.

The wind dissipated at the first touch of sunlight.

* * *

**From the Author:** Oh my. So what was _all that _about?

Well, now let me explain a bit. That beginning spiel with the playground and such, that's just a little prologue to the "Pumpkin Chronicles," which is the mini series I had mentioned before. There was some mild fluff here, set in the context of a warped and crazy Halloween-themed adventure. I'unno. :D I understand that there was quite a bit of ambiguity (what with the "demons," the paper, the wind... the random corn), but I hope you've figured out what everything really is.

Or _is_ it?

I hope this wasn't too utterly boring or confusing. I just wanted to update for once, after having put it off for... well... months. :'( Sorry! Really, I'm so sorry... and thanks again to the readers/reviewers!

_Nous nous réunirons encore bientôt!_  
(We will meet again soon!)


	3. The Fable of A: I

**Note:** Okay, so there's a whole lot of speculation in this one. Not much is known about the first-generation L successors, A and BB. Hey, but if it's not mentioned, it's free game, right? Sure... Yeah.

Anyway, for those of you that don't know, A and BB are characters from _Another Note_, a Death Note prequel novel. "A" was supposedly the very first L successor, who committed suicide from the pressure of trying to become L. "BB" was supposedly second-in-line, a boy born with shinigami eyes, but he left Wammy's and became a wack-a-doodle serial killer. ...Yeah. They're adorable.

But what about the time before all the madness? I'm certain that BB was eccentric, but I doubt that he was always the crazy fool that he eventually became. And we don't know anything at all about A. Thus, the question remains: who were they before?

(By the way, A is a girl now, because there aren't enough intelligent women in the DN world. I declare it thus, and it will henceforth be true.)

* * *

**"Gimme Mah Chocolate, Foo'!"**  
Documentary 2: The Fable of A  
_Part one: Crescendo_

**--x--**

**Date: **Unknown  
**Time: **Generation AB  
**Age Span**: Mello - 10, Matt - 9, Near - 8  
A - varying, BB - varying

**--x--**

Mello was lounging in one of the plush chairs of Roger's office, head in hand and elbow on armrest, awaiting his punishment for the day. It always seemed like Roger had a sort of vendetta against him. So _what_ if he harassed other orphans on a daily basis... and stole from the kitchen cabinets... and sometimes thrashed Near into a stain on the carpet?

Well. It sounds sorta bad at first. But you know, no one else seemed to have a problem with it.

Then again, they'd probably say that was his fault too.

Mello was busy contemplating life when Roger's head popped in through a crack in the doorway and said, warily, "Mello, it would seem that Linda has broken into a vomiting fit, and the other caretakers require my assistance. Stay _right here_ and don't touch _anything_." The door closed.

Silly Roger. Mello hadn't planned on going anywhere or touching anything until he mentioned it.

Almost immediately after the door was shut, Mello sprang up from his chair and proceeded to jog around Roger's table, touching every single thing within reach. "Touch! Touch touch touch. Touch-touch-touch-touch-touch..."

Then he plopped down onto Roger's big swivel chair and spun around repeatedly, making sure to brush against everything within arm-length-radius as he did so. Mello always _was_ good at multitasking.

Unfortunately, the fun-having stopped when one of the blonde's fingers caught abruptly in a small crevice between the side of the desk and one of its drawers, causing the child immense pain and initiating a flailing panic. The momentum of the chair, however, only allowed a brief pause before plowing on determinedly, the spinning motion ripping the finger away from the crevice and throwing Mello's balance out of control. He toppled gracelessly from the swivel chair -- and into a filing cabinet.

Luckily, Mello had a skull forged of steel, and when it banged helplessly into the cold, resounding metal, it sustained no more damage than a tender bruise on the back of the head. The boy scowled as he watched papers from a now-open cabinet drawer flutter down upon his face.

Scrambling, Mello got to his knees and hurriedly pushed all the files into a haphazard pile on the floor. Lifting this mess of papers, he waddled up to the open drawer with the intention of dumping them back in, but he stubbed his toe on something near the bottom of the cabinet and accidentally dropped all of the papers again, much to his chagrin.

The force of the blow caused a rusted padlock -- that thing which had enabled Mello's stubbing of the toe -- to crack and fall away. The release of the padlock, incidentally, dragged its drawer open just a little bit, a slowly gaping crack. Mello stared at it curiously, because after the lock fell off, he had no idea how the drawer kept sliding forth, little by little.

Mello knelt slowly and pulled it open. Inside, there lay a shallow pile of old documents. They seemed rather boring -- just pages of text about dull things like medical reports, dental checkups, pharmaceutical bills, blah-the-bloody-blah-blah. Mello leafed through the other papers in the drawer, scanning them briefly until something caught his eye. It was different from the others, for it was not a report, but a list consisting of 30 names. Some were written in different colored ink, others had dates beside them in the margin, and still others were stricken by neat, red lines through the middle. He paused and pondered the meaning of this list, numbered 1 to 30.

However, if Mello had not been attracted so suddenly by this paper, he would have noticed that the last report before this page was a documentation of death, with the letter "A" printed on the bottom line.

* * *

**Once Upon a Time**

"...we shall be as a city upon a hill." - John Winthrop, _A Model of Christian Charity_

**Age Span**: A - 7, BB - 8

**--x--**

I first came to Wammy's many years ago. It was in the early days, when L had only just begun his extraordinary success as a detective, and when Watari first began to consider the necessity of an heir.

It was from good intentions that Wammy established the institute. Bring in homeless, orphaned, or otherwise abandoned children and give them what they need to subsist. Train them well. Take in only the best. Then, perhaps, one of them will rise to greatness the way L did; L being the goal and predecessor of all the genii. There was no trace of malice involved in this plan, for Wammy was a compassionate man, and he loved us genuinely, I'm sure.

But the path to Hell is paved with good intentions.

**-x-**

I came alone that day, pushed along gently by Mr. Wammy. Back then, children were hand-picked and escorted individually to the institute, not brought in by droves like the later children. In any case, I was ascending the front steps of the place, rain cascading in slants across my vision, and grateful to be able to get out of the storm.

I didn't even notice her, at first, standing by herself in the porch corner and peering heavenward at the grey canvas of sky. Mr. Wammy hadn't noticed either. She was a small, quiet thing that blended in quite well with the dreary background of rainfall. Mr. Wammy happened to turn away for a moment, shaking out his wet umbrella, when from the outermost edge of my peripheral vision, I saw a glimmer of red. A name and numbers above the head.

She was the first child I met. Later, she would be the first I told about my eyes, and the first to believe me. She was the first to believe _in_ me. The only.

But then, she was the first in everything.

Wammy entered the building. I was still observing her, and when the door opened, she noticed the incandescent light which fell like an illuminated, golden shadow across the porch. I saw her turn around, her short, choppy black hair wafting along a zephyr as she did so. Her frame was pale and frail; her eyes were a mild, very light grey.

She would have been entirely nondescript, a dispensable observation, if not for the eyes. I had a habit of focusing on eyes, mine being so different and all. Hers were soft and gentle-looking, at first glance. Yet there was also this subtle, quiet sadness that hung there among the feather grey, suspended in her irises like the dangling noose of the gallows... empty but foreboding.

**--x--**

"I'm A, by the way. That's how they name us -- with just a letter."

After Mr. Wammy dropped me off and left, I saw her again. She was sitting on the stairs in the dark foyer with her head in hand and elbow on knees. Her eyes were directed on me and I returned her gaze. We listened to the footfalls of rain echo against our silence.

"Did they name you?"

"B."

"B... and what does B stand for?"

"Backup."

She frowned a little. "Ah. I see. That means you're among the more brilliant kids here. You see, they name you by your IQ, starting with me, A, and going down the alphabet. They say that I'm ranked number one."

"Ranked? For what?"

"Ranked by your intelligence and for your aptitude to become L. We... all... want to become L." There was hesitation in her last statement.

"L? What's L?"

"What is L, indeed," she replied enigmatically.

I tilted my head and blinked at her.

"You are 'Backup,' B. That is, you are L's backup. In case L should die, you may become L."

"I'll _become_ L? Is L a person or a thing?"

She smiled when I said that. It wasn't happy or approving; probably just the opposite, if that made any sense. It was a wary smile. "I think the better question is: are _we_ people or things?"

I tilted my head the other way. "What do you mean?"

"Well. When someone takes your name, B, they take your identity. By naming you, they claim you as theirs to name. Are we objects that we can be so taken and rearranged? Who -- or what -- is L to do such a thing? ...What is L, indeed." She cast her eyes downward.

"It's not like they _take_ your name though. You still have your real--"

"No, I don't. Real names aren't allowed here. I'm just A now. I am Alternate L."

It was my turn to smirk. "But I can see it. Your real one."

She blinked. "You can see my name?"

"It's right there," I gestured above her head, "over the numbers. I can see everyone's names and numbers."

Since I had moved closer to gesture, A was now observing my eyes. She seemed to notice then how red they were, but she made no visible reaction and was simply silent for a while. "You can see... names and numbers?"

"That's right."

"Really..."

"Really."

"Then... what's my real name?"

I told her. I expected her to be surprised, incredulous, or perhaps afraid -- but she just smiled again, slowly. It was the happy kind, this time, although uncertain.

"That _is_ my name, isn't it...? I..." She seemed about to say something, but instead paused for a while, putting her fingers on her bottom lip and shifting her eyes to her lap. Eventually, when she began again, the fleeting look of emotion on her face was gone. "B, you shouldn't go around telling people that you can see their names. They will be upset. And please don't mention my name again, because like I said, real names aren't allowed." She stood briskly and turned to ascend the stairs.

"Hey, that's no fun. Don't you want my name now, too?"

"...real names aren't allowed, B."

"Wanna know how I can see your name?"

"No, B. Don't mention it again."

I pouted. "Weren't you just saying how much you _don't_ like having them rename us?"

"I don't like it, but it's not a matter of like or dislike. The moment we walked through that door, we became the property of L and this orphanage. We are _obligated_ to succeed as L's heirs." She turned and looked at me, seemed about to say something again, and then stopped herself before she did. She went up the steps.

I noticed she did that a lot -- she stopped before she started.

"Ooh, wait! I'll come too!"

And I bounded up the stairs after her. Several hours later, when she finally allowed me entrance into her room (after much pounding, whining, and general noise-making on my part), I told her about my name and my eyes, and she listened patiently. She was the first.

* * *

**Convene and Adjourn**

"...we stand on different sides of the river." - _Esperanza Rising_, by Pam Muñoz Ryan

**Age Span**: A - 9, BB - 10

**--x--**

In time, we became familiar with each other -- mostly due to my own forwardness.

A was younger than me, but her soul seemed much older. She was quiet, as I'd said before, but not exactly shy... just reclusive, sometimes a little cold, and always a little sad.

I wasn't sure if we could be called friends. It may have been a one-sided sentimentality, because it always seemed like I irritated the hell out of her. You see, I had been hefted out of her room many a time for "invading her personal space," "being a nuisance," and even "touching her stuff." She did not like her stuff touched. I once smudged strawberry jam on one of the trinkets decorating her desk and suffered a maelstrom of insults because of it; then she shoved me out of her room and ignored me for a week. Women. Honestly.

But she always lets me back in, eventually.

Another thing I began to notice was how aloof most of the children at this orphanage were. They always seemed too preoccupied with something -- usually studying or trying to better themselves in some way -- to notice anyone else.

Except for A, who cared far more than she ever let on.

**-x-**

"BB," (that was her term of endearment for me, I think) "close the window, will you?"

I got up and crawled across the red yarn rug to the window, shutting it. It was about 6:00 pm and the sun was shedding its last orange rays across the horizon, filtering gently into A's room, where the two of us were trying to pass the time. A was sitting on the unused bottom half of the bunk bed, which I claimed as my own, because A didn't have a roommate and because I spent more time in this room than my own anyway.

"A, do people ever come to adopt us?" I asked suddenly.

A looked up at me from the book she was reading. "I don't think so, BB. We're not up for adoption, really."

"Hmm," I hummed offhandedly. I waved my hand for her to come over and then pointed to the black limousine entering the orphanage grounds.

"Oh, that's Mr. Wammy. Sometimes he comes to visit and check up on us. Or, he could be bringing a new orphan." She settled back on the bed, uninterested.

I beamed at the prospect of something to do.

"Let's go spy on them!"

"Let's not."

"Aw, come on!"

"I don't know where _you're_ going, but I'm not_ coming_. Mr. Wammy doesn't need us watching him. He's a big boy."

(Initiate persuasion mode.) "Please come with me? Pleeeaaaassseeee? Pretty please? Pretty pretty pretty please??"

She ignored me and flipped a page of her book, irritated.

(Shifting gears to cajolery.) "Hey, A. Your hair looks awesome."

She drew her lips into a tight line and said nothing.

(Last resort: approach the target.)

"Come ooooonnnn..." I got on my knees and crawled imploringly to the edge of the bed, wailing. "Come ooooooonnnn..." I repeated, shaking the mattress.

She looked up at me, then.

**-x-**

And the next thing I knew, my face was attached to the hallway carpet, listening to the distant reverberation of a door thundering shut. That was cold, A. That was cold.

**--x--**

Strolling around the corridors, I absentmindedly turned the corner of a hall and bumped into Wednesday. (1) The blonde teen glanced down at me somewhat contemptuously and remarked, "Keep your distance, freak." She evaded me sharply and headed toward the stairs, where a dense current of children were presently pouring down the steps.

"Hey wait! Are we forming a mob? Can I join??"

Wednesday sighed heavily, annoyed. "No, _smart one_. Didn't you hear?"

"Hear wha'?"

"You don't know anything, do you?" She turned again and waded into the current.

Undaunted, I hummed to myself and wondered where the crowd would take me if I followed it. Hadn't I been going that way anyway? Let's see, I was going to... going to go... um... Ah, whatever. I felt more like getting a snack at the moment.

Doubling back, I crossed the deserted hallways to the stairwell on the other side of the building. It was, mercifully, empty, and it took me directly to the kitchen. Sneaking in, I noted the lack of kitchen staff and darted over to the fridge, prying the door open and digging around.

I didn't even hear the back door swing shut. Though when it did, a figure rushed silently into the kitchen, gave a shifty-eyed glance around, and ducked into the supply closet on the other side of the room.

When I emerged from my rummaging, I hugged a jar of jam to my chest and closed the fridge. Now all I needed was like a spoon or something, and then I'd head back to A's roo-- ooh. A penny.

I knelt down behind a counter situated in the middle of the kitchen, and the moment I was out of sight, the intruder from before peered cautiously out of the supply closet. The person took another furtive glance around, apparently concluding that the kitchen was empty. He then crept carefully on his hands and knees toward a bottom cabinet across the room, obstructed from view by the counter between us.

I lifted my head, fingering the dirty penny and observing it mildly. Hm. It looked kinda rusty and disgusting. I slapped it down on the counter in front of me and proceeded to unscrew the jar of jam.

Startled by the noise of the penny, the person on the other side of the counter jumped up, cookie jar in hand, and scared the poop out of me.

"Whoa!" I gawked at him. He looked pretty crazy -- one giant cowlick of black hair, white unblemished skin, huge black eyes, huge black circles around the eyes -- though I suppose he couldn't have been more than a mere teenager. Still, he looked pretty crazy. (2)

"Ah, um, hello... there. I... I am the plumber that was called. This is the kitchen, is it not?" he feigned a look of stupidity and pretended to observe his surroundings. I ignored this feeble act and looked at the space above his head. Then I stared silently into his owlish eyes, a blank look on my face.

"Yes. Well. Everything looks fine. I suppose my job here is done..." He tucked the cookie jar under one arm and proceeded to power-walk away.

"Hey, wait."

His head turned around slowly, and it seemed like those big, dark eyes grew marginally wider.

"...Are you a person or a thing?"

**--x** (_2 hours later_) **x--**

"So, did you give him the death penalty after he was caught?"

"That is not for me to decide."

I thought about it briefly. "But, _would_ you?"

"No. I believe life imprisonment would have been sufficient."

"Would you ever? Sentence someone to death?"

"Perhaps."

"I think _I_ would." I paused thoughtfully. "Or donate them to science as lab monkeys."

"You are strange."

I smirked up at the odd-looking boy, who was devouring a large cookie-jar-full of cake with his bare hands and walking along like it was nothing out of the ordinary. So _I_ was the strange one? (I mean, at least I had the decency to use a spoon when eating my confectionaries...)

But hey, maybe that was true.

I followed him everywhere that day. Of course I knew who he was -- the floating red symbols above his head being undeniable proof -- but he introduced himself to me as Danuve, a visiting detective friend of Mr. Wammy. I was fascinated; enchanted, even. I think he was initially uncomfortable with me tailing him around and staring at his head, but after a while, he began to tell me stories about himself and his occupation. Everything else up to this point had been a lie, I knew (that plumber crap didn't fool me at all; it was obvious that he was missing the telltale pot belly/butt-crack signature of plumbers), but the stories were real. I was fascinated.

"Where're we going now, Danuve?"

All this time, the boy had been taking great pains to maneuver around the crowds of children that huddled near the orphanage windows, waiting. Of course, by now I had pieced things together and understood the situation: the kids heard a rumor that L would be coming for a visit, and, excited to get a glimpse of their idol, were diligently keeping an eye out for some unknown adult strolling around the orphanage grounds. Little did they know that L was a mere teen, who blended in surprisingly well with the children (despite his odd appearance) and was consequently ignored.

I knew this, but I decided to play the innocent, unsuspecting kid -- to humor L, and to be able to tag along with him for a while longer. This was amusing.

"Actually, I have a favor to do for Mr. Wammy. He asked me to perform an interview today."

"Interview? For who?"

The older boy shrugged. "Just someone."

"Can I come?"

"No. You may wait outside the door."

**-x-**

So I did just that. I waited outside Roger's office for about half an hour, spooning jam into my mouth thoughtfully. Eventually, the door opened and out stepped L, approaching me and patting my head amiably. "The interview is finished. I must be leaving now."

"Awwww..." I whined, clamping down on the hand upon my head, "Don't go yet!"

"I have to. Be a good boy, B."

He extracted his hand from my grip and ambled away, leaving me to wonder how he knew my name when I had never introduced myself.

"BB? Why are you just standing there?"

I turned around to see a girl walk out of Roger's office, looking rather dejected.

"A!" I chirped. "So it was you being interviewed!"

She nodded in confirmation.

"That was L, you know."

"I know."

I was oddly offended, assuming that L must have told her straightaway who he was. "Um. So, what was the interview about?"

"We were... discussing the possibility of my succeeding as L."

"Oh," I glanced at her expression, "so you didn't make the cut?"

"On the contrary, I... well... L expects that, at this rate, I may even surpass him."

I frowned.

"He says that I will almost certainly become his successor. I suppose he's been monitoring my progress over the years, but this was the first time we've met. He expects that my intelligence will, in time, surpass his, although--"

"So we're _enemies_, then."

My statement -- though not really a statement, but more of a declaration -- was followed by a heavy silence and a distinct deceleration in time. A made no visible reaction, though she seemed to stand rather numbly for a while.

We were quiet.

"...Pardon?"

"We're enemies, A."

She still seemed to be locked in a confused state of shock. "I don't... why... what do you mean?"

"I mean what I said."

My words seemed to be seeping in slowly, but she remained rigid and asked, hesitantly, "But, why--"

"--all of a sudden?" I interrupted, impatient for this apparent incomprehension. "Well, because I've finally met L. _The_ one and only L. And he's _amazing_." I looked her directly in the eye as I explained, "Before, I hadn't given much thought to this so-called goal of 'becoming L.' But now that I've met him, talked with him, heard the things he's done..." I paused and gave a lopsided grin. "I don't just want to _be_ him. I want to _beat_ him."

I paused and tilted my head. "Do you understand that, A? _I_ want to be the one to surpass L."

She opened her mouth to say something, then promptly closed it. She tried again, and managed only a little gasp of air before silencing again. A bit her lip, folded her hands, tilted her head downward, and closed her eyes.

I waited a while, but when she remained unresponsive, I took this as a sign of understanding. Or, perhaps, resignation. I spooned some nearly-forgotten jam into my mouth and swallowed. "Nothing personal, A. It just so happens that our goal is the same, but we stand on different sides of the river." I gave her a little pat on the shoulder, but she never changed her position. "Well. I'm gonna go now, 'kay? I wanna wave goodbye to L."

Without waiting for her reply -- for I knew there would be none -- I dashed off toward the front of the building, seeking out the boy with the giant, perpetual cowlick of black hair.

Leaving behind the girl with the eyes that mirrored the greying of her heart.

* * *

(1) Wednesday. Wed-nes-day. Wed-y. Wedy. LE GASP!

(2) Most say that BB looks identical to L, but actually, I think the novel explained that their likeness in appearance was due to the make-up that BB put on. I think that, naturally, the two of them must look pretty different. After all, not many people can claim a face like L's. (...Omitting the existence of Near...)

* * *

**From the Author:** Now, the first order of business which I must address is this: I'm really, truly sorry for not updating in... er... a long, long time. Like six months. ;o;

_Abstenez de m'embrocher avec les bâtons, s'il vous plait_. (Please refrain from skewering me with sticks!)

Hehe. Um. Moving on.

Yes, and so this was my take on the whole "generation AB" idea. I don't actually know if all the details are accurate to the novel, having never read it myself, but I did what I could. There's a Part Two to this thing, which I will upload soon, presumably in a few days. It still doesn't feel quite right, though. I was wondering if anyone would be willing to **beta-read** it for me; I just need a few people. Please pm/review if you're interested! :)


	4. The Fable of A: II

**Note:** Well, I've been fussing over this chapter for like a week (which is why it's taken so long to get it here). I'd like to thank those who offered to beta, and I'd like to thank those who have beta-ed: **MysteriousPenname **and** saidtheirnevers**. Thanks again, guyz! :) There may still be imperfections, but I got tired of fussing over this thing, and so I thought: "Ah, what the hell. I'm taking too long anyway." And so I finally posted it.

Now, this is the latter half of the twoshot. Keep in mind, though, that all of this has been told from BB's perspective. There are certain things that won't make sense right away, and certain questions left unanswered. However, there are later chapters that bear reference to this one; in time, you will know.

* * *

**"Gimme Mah Chocolate, Foo'!"**  
Documentary 3: The Fable of A  
_Part two: Decrescendo_

**--x--**

**Date: **Unknown  
**Time: **Generation AB  
**Age Span**: Mello - 10, Matt - 9, Near - 8  
A - 12, BB - 14

**--x--**

Mello scurried into his room, shutting the door behind him softly so as not to attract attention. He was still clutching the shallow pile of documents in his hand, but he had put everything else back in its rightful place. The only thing Roger would realize once he returned was that Mello was not in his office, and he probably half-expected that anyway.

Mello turned around slowly and, as usual, found Matt sprawled across the bottom-bunk bed, preoccupied with some kind of mind-numbing game.

"Matt, I need to show you something."

"Mm," the redhead grunted, making no proper effort to acknowledge his friend.

Mello closed the distance between them and shoved something into the gamer's face.

Matt reluctantly paused his game and glanced at the sheet of paper. He sighed and dug a gummy bear out of the package on the bed beside him, asking, "Mel, why're you showing me your dental records?"

"Dental--?!" Mello turned the file around and scanned the page. He shuffled briefly through the other pages as well, searching for that one strange list. "Matt, it's gone!"

"What's gone, Melly?"

"Matt, I _swear_ I'll dislocate your jaw if you call me that again. I can't find the list! It even had your name on it!"

"What're you ranting about, you crazy mofo?"

"BAH!"

Mello turned abruptly and tossed the papers over his shoulder, frustrated, stomping toward the exit.

Matt glanced down at one of the disheveled papers and a bell of recognition tolled.

"Ah, been snoopin' again, huh?" He lifted the page, a documentation of death. Mello glanced back at his friend, who seemed to be staring rather intensely at the paper. Finally, Matt sighed and let the paper flutter down to the floor, still looking thoughtful. "You know, number one's and number two's seem to come and go like seasons, but as long as I've known, I've always been number three."

When Mello kindly asked what the hell Matt was yapping about, the redhead shrugged and said, "A list, right? I know what you mean -- I've been through that filing cabinet too."

Mello gave a questioning look, which Matt ignored.

"It was an old list of ranks. Ranking used to be big back then -- or, well, bigger." He removed his goggles and toyed with the strap a bit. "...Mel, you ever hear of A and B?"

Mello shook his head, no.

"Yeah, well... they used to be Wammy legends. On par with L, almost. It wasn't actually that long ago -- I was here when they were here. But, you see..." And so, Matt proceeded to divulge his early memories of the two legendary upperclassmen.

* * *

**One-Sided War**

"All of them... constructed at infinite cost to themselves these Maginot Lines against this enemy they thought they saw across the frontier, this enemy who never attacked that way -- if he ever attacked at all; if he was indeed the enemy." - _A Separate Peace, _by John Knowles

**--x--**

In time, we grew apart -- mostly due to my own ambition.

It was just that brief time with L, just that small portion of the day with a man unknown to me for all my life until that moment, but it changed so much.

I collected my things from A's room, where I used to reside, and piled them into my own rightful closet. I stopped seeing her, and I avoided her eye which tried from time to time to catch mine. A could take a hint, though. She left me alone after a while, and we saw ever less of one another as the weeks, then months, and then years dragged along.

I'm not sure how A felt about it all. It wasn't really a big deal. I held no personal grudge against her, but playing buddy-buddy would just be unnatural at this point, when my goal was now to usurp her claim to number one. It wasn't like A cared about ranking anyway -- from what I had gathered before, I knew she had a sort of abhorrence for the ranking and naming system in Wammy's.

Even so, she remained the first in everything.

**-x-**

A very young child, not a day older than four or five years, entered the dining hall. The other children ignored him, as they ignored everyone, but I watched the little thing scamper around the tables, piling food onto two plates. One plate for him, one plate for A.

This was C, one of the newer children. The institution had become more populated as of late, and for this reason, C was assigned as A's roommate. I'd heard that the child was rather bright -- far below A and I, but significantly above the others.

A often sent him on errands for her, which he was more than eager to accomplish. He was a cute kid, though perhaps too naive and too obedient; a child such as this, allied with a more unruly child, could be taken advantage of. Or else wreak havoc. The redhead was lucky to have landed with A, because the caretakers were brainless, and so there was no better guardian in the orphanage.

My attention diverted to a conversation going on at the other end of the long, rectangular table where I sat. There was no one between us (kids typically kept a distance of at least three yards in every direction away from me), so I could hear them quite clearly.

"Did you hear? It's almost that time of the year again..." one girl began, sounding awed.

"Time for what? The cook to get fired?"

She slapped him on the arm. "No, dummy! Don't you know anything?!"

"Actually," another boy filled in, "she meant that it's almost time for L to visit again. Not that it even matters, though. L always comes at ungodly hours of the night, somehow sneaks past all of us, and only pays a visit to that mopey girl upstairs."

"Ugh, I hate her. For a little Miss Perfect, she's way aggressive."

"I don't know about aggressive -- I've never seen her _do_ anything -- but she always gets pissed off at the littlest things. And if she's not doing that, she's sitting in her emo corner of the classroom, sulking."

"You mean the girl that always has the top scores? I've never met her."

"She's in our forensics class, dumb one!"

"Really? Huh."

"Yeah, well... it doesn't matter anyway. She's L's favorite."

The three children paused sullenly. Then they resumed their conversation with a new topic, chatting about other, more whimsical things.

So L was coming. I mused over this thought happily, spooning blackberry jam into my mouth. Assuming that the other orphans heard the news only recently, L would likely arrive some time this week. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to greet him. I had something special planned for him this time. Something wonderful.

"Um."

My thoughts were disturbed when an infantile voice addressed me from behind.

"She said to give you this."

C handed me a pink, flower-shaped sticky note.

This done, the child nonchalantly turned around and left, walking toward the kitchen stairs while carrying two plates of food awkwardly in his arms. I looked down at the ostensibly girly note, which plainly read:

_Philosophy Section (100-199).  
Library, 6:00 pm.  
Let's talk._

**--x--**

"I know what you're planning."

I looked up. Before me was a young girl, prepubescent but mature in manner, looking down at me with those soft, feather grey eyes that never seemed to change.

I gave her my lopsided grin. It was the only grin I had now, for it seemed that my smile reflected the convolution of my heart over the years.

"It's been a while, A. You let your hair grow out. It's cute."

"Don't patronize me, B."

We were in the large, idyllic library, nestled in one claustrophobic aisle between two shelves of books. I had been sitting on the ground, skimming over a bizarre text on hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia (1), when she approached me, silent and unassuming as always. I vaguely noticed the omittance of her old endearment when she spoke.

I put my thumb on the page and closed the book over it, holding my place. "And what exactly am I planning?" I replied, giving her my full attention now.

"Is it fine to just blurt it out here?"

"Go right ahead. No one's watching." I paused, then began again in a lower voice, "Of course, if you really _do_ know, I may have to kill you."

Anyone else would have turned and left, then and there. I had always been feared in the orphanage as a sort of local boogeyman, so to speak. After A and I parted ways, I never interacted with the other children -- it was a mutual disdain. They feared me for some reason or another (was it my eyes?) and I looked down on them for their contempt, those cynics. There were probably even rumors circulating that could attest to the possibility that I would, in fact, uphold a threat to kill.

But not A. Even after years of alienation, she trusted me.

"I do know, but I know you won't kill me for knowing. Not now. Not if I don't intervene."

"And? Will you intervene?"

"Absolutely."

Good old A.

I giggled. "Well then, I will _absolutely_ have to kill you. Because, you see--"

"B, I don't want you to die."

There was no change of inflection in her voice, and there was no expression on her face. Yet I had never known A to be so blunt, and I knew then that this was something different.

"Are you saying you'd miss me if I died? Aww..." I sympathized mockingly. "But that's sort of unfortunate, A, because I don't care. And you shouldn't care, either. We're enemies."

I saw her draw her lips into a tight line, just like in the old days, when she would become exasperated with me for whatever reason and... but that was in the old days. "_Stop_. It's not _worth_ it. L's not worth it. Please... BB. Just listen to me."

"You seem so sure that I'm out to kill myself. What ever gives you that idea?"

"Don't you lie to me," she replied, a sharpness lacing her voice. "These years have changed you. You're losing yourself, B. You're losing to L."

At that, something snapped. "Losing?" I giggled a bit too loud. "_I'm_ losing? No, A. The one who will lose is you. You say you don't care about being L, but I know that's not true. What else do you have going for you? You've never known a life outside of Wammy's, and there is no fathomable goal beyond becoming L. Succeeding him is your life. But honey, I will be the one to _surpass_ L -- and, therefore, you. I will not lose."

She looked at me serenely and said, "You're right. There's nothing out there for me other than the title of L. I don't exist, and I don't matter. But..." She paused and dropped her gaze to the floor. "...you..."

There seemed to be something she wanted to say, but that reflexive stop-before-starting habit seemed to be kicking in. She fought it. "...in you... BB..." She paused for a while, folding her hands and closing her eyes. By now, I had discovered that this was her way of shutting out the world whenever she felt overwhelmed; whenever some fear, pressure, or sudden inexplicable change began to shake her foundations.

"...in you... I... am..." her voice cracked a little, but she willed it to continue, "...more than... a replacement. ...More than Alternate L."

We were quiet.

I exploded into laughter.

"A-And -- and is this the part where we _kiss_?!"

I snorted and let out another wave of giggles, falling back against the bookshelf behind me, blinded by effervescing tears.

I don't know what happened after that. I fully expected her to grab my book and bash my head in with it -- that was the kind of thing A might do -- but when I looked up, she was gone. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the library's double doors shut. Softly.

I didn't mean to hurt her. Really, there was no ill intention.

But it was just so _funny_.

**--x--**

Some days later, I was busily constructing the mechanism of my machinations. I was, as usual, in my hideout outside of Wammy's: the underground cavern.

Now, it wasn't as though I had simply taken a shovel and set to work on some random patch of Wammy land. No, the underground area had always been there; it was a natural, geological formation beneath the orphanage grounds. _Way_ beneath. There is only one way to pass between the underground and the surface grounds, which I had stumbled into years ago... but I won't say more than that. (2)

Anyways, I first fell upon the cavern opening when I was about nine or so, and at the time, it would have been natural for me to share my discovery with A. Fortunately, I did not. Back then, I had only performed a shallow inspection of the opening, scratched my head, and turned back the way I came. I had no interest in an oversized hole in the ground, and I thought nothing of it. Later though, after my war declaration against A, I began to search for a place that I could steal away to and call my own. My dorm at Wammy's wasn't enough. The orphanage was where A presided -- the territory that _she_ reigned over. I needed my own domain.

Thus, I returned to my "oversized hole" and began a serious exploration. Of course, the further one goes in, the wider and deeper it becomes. It was only when I had reached a depth of about 1,500 meters, giant flashlight in one hand and red lollipop in the other, that I discovered the centerpiece of the unassuming hole: the catacombs. (3)

They were old, but it was obvious that, centuries ago, someone had discovered the caverns before me. Everything up to this point was a natural, geological formation, but the catacombs were man-made. And man-filled.

The first thing I noticed was an enormous, circular clearing with a mussed dirt floor and walls lined entirely of _human skulls_. The second notable observation was that there were nine tunnel ways (excluding the one I had emerged from) that encircled the clearing. The third, much less intriguing detail was a small stone pedestal situated in the middle of the room. Upon it stood a marble tablet with an engraved message, written in, perhaps, an ancient Saxonic language. I couldn't read it, so I ignored it and moved on.

In the years that followed, I became ever more fascinated with the catacombs, thoroughly exploring each of the nine tunnels. They winded and weaved intricately underground, and at the very end of each path, there was always a strange sort of surprise. But I won't get into that. In essence, during the times when I would wander about my catacombs, I began to make the place mine. I filled it with personal possessions such as study texts, battery-powered lamps, and certain experimental "equipment" that I acquired over the years. There were even some odd hooks between the skulls that made very nice coat hangers.

Most importantly, I lined the walls with newspaper clippings, magazine articles, and other such media that covered the achievements of the mysterious "L," who was now making his name world-renowned. Sometimes, I would get tired or listless when working alone underground for hours, but as soon as I so much as glanced at that old English "L" decorating the front page of the London Times, I felt an inspiration.

Oh.

And I placed a framed picture of A against the stone tablet in the center clearing -- the "living room," as I called it -- because her smile seemed to give the place a feeling of home.

**-x-**

The exact details of the plan I have since forgotten, but it was to be so intricate, so absolutely flawless that L would never be able to solve it; he'd simply be driving his mind in circles until, perhaps, insanity. Wouldn't that be interesting?

Though I knew that, at any moment, A could intervene.

I couldn't gauge how much she knew about my plot -- whether it was simply the anticipated end, or every last of the means taken to get there. I couldn't fathom how she had found out, either. I left no trace of my plans anywhere, as far as I knew, and the blueprints of my masterpiece were scripted within the confines of my mind alone.

I mused over these thoughts offhandedly. At the moment, I had paused in the construction of my device and moved to a different tunnel, where I would need to experiment a bit to figure some things out. I wedged a couple lamps and my flashlight into the skulls lining the walls to provide better lighting for my activity.

This was Tunnel 3; I numbered each tunnel starting from the one closest to the left of the cavern entryway. This was the shortest tunnel, for it went in only about 220 meters, and it also had the most careless design. Here I found a multitude of dead corpses, strewn about the walls and floor, with no attempts at burial. Strangely enough, though, they were all preserved perfectly. All the skin, flesh, and organs were in place; the ghostly faces even retained their dying expressions. For my purposes, this was good.

I walked around to the table in the back and flipped on the desk lamp. I reached to the side for my scalpel and hummed as I began to operate on the corpse lying motionless on the rustic wood.

My device could work only once. It was a tiny machine, a tiny tiny machine, which would dissipate into biodegradable particles after serving its purpose. Thus, I needed to study the human anatomy very carefully, in order to execute a perfect result.

Ah, but the plan?

I was going to stage a murder, just for L. In the next three days, I would be planting clues all around the orphanage. There were nine in all, and I already had two in place. The murderer? Me. The murdered? _Me_. So of course, I'd have to get my suicide weapon right the first time, in order to eliminate the possibility of a flawed execution and, consequently, meaningless death.

The device was to be swallowed, suspend the movement of my heart, and then disappear without a trace. Of course, L would eventually find the clues, which would mislead him to the conclusion that there was a murderer on the orphanage grounds. I'd be the first, and only, victim. If everything turned out according to plan, when (or "if," I suppose) my body was found, my death would be inexplicable. And think of the terror! The orphans would be in an uproar, L would be baffled, and there'd be a silly bout of havoc for some time. If all went according to plan, L would never solve the case of my "murder," forever believing in the existence of an untraceable killer on the loose.

The only possible flaw in my plan would be a malfunction in the device, because I absolutely _had_ to get it right. I had been operating on preserved corpses for a while now -- I understood the human anatomy and all the intricacies in shutting it down -- so I was confident in my plan. I was proud of my invention.

I called it the Heartbreaker.

**-x-**

I was in Tunnel 5 now, back to working on the device, when I heard the distant toll of a bell. It was the dinner bell.

The orphanage, being of a slightly medieval/Gothic/Catholic design, had a bell tower connected to the building. The first time I had heard the bells from down here, I was bewildered. '_Surely over 1000 meters of earth would muffle the sounds of a church bell?_' I had thought. However, I disregarded the notion and speculated that it must have been because the catacombs were situated somewhere directly beneath the bell tower.

I set down my tools and placed the tiny device on the table, carefully.

It typically took me hours to crawl my way back to the orphanage, and I knew that if I left by the dinner bell, I'd be back in time for lights out.

* * *

**Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows**

"Reports of a lover's tryst were neither clear nor descript. We kept it safe and slow, the quiet things that no one ever knows..." - lyrics by Brand New

**--x--**

It was true that I could see names and numbers, but the numbers were impossible to decipher. Sometimes a longer train of digits calculated into a shorter span of time; sometimes just the opposite. The only time I could be sure of the meaning was when a lifespan was close to zero -- when the jiggling, twitching numbers halted their erratic dance. Only on the day of death do the numbers stop dancing, dropping off one by one.

But we were back to being strangers, and I hadn't seen her all day long.

**--x--**

I was only midway to the orphanage when the sky brought forth a sudden onslaught of rain. It perturbed me greatly, to say the least. Making my way slowly through the lancing droplets, several hours passed before I finally came within sight of the institution. The fierce raindrops pelted my face, forcing me to shut my eyes periodically, so that when I opened them again, I was surprised to detect a glimmer of red.

Just like the first time.

She was standing in the corner again, dry underneath the overhanging roof, and looking off into space with her eyes unfocused. I could see her distinctly, what with my unusual eyesight, but I doubted she saw me.

"A, what're you doing out here?" I shouted, attempting to talk over the storm. She may have heard me faintly, for her head turned back and forth, as though searching for something.

I moved nearer. "A, what're you doing out here?!" I shouted louder. She seemed to have sighted me now, but she didn't respond, and so I moved nearer still.

When I was safely beneath the roof of the porch, dripping pitifully, I approached her. "A, what're you... what're you doing... out here?" I asked, panting and exhausted from my lengthy traverse.

She looked at me stiffly and replied, "The bell rang, and you didn't come."

I used my sleeve to swipe at the layer of rainwater building over my face. "What are you talking about? I never come to dinner."

A just regarded me coldly. I was getting the vibe that what she had said wasn't meant to be taken literally. I, unfortunately, had no skill in dissecting her abstract words. I didn't think she'd spell it out for me this time, either; she seemed royally pissed off.

A quietly padded across the porch and entered through the front door. I thought she had gotten annoyed with me and left, so I sat down on the porch steps to rest. However, the front door swung open again a few short moments later. I was mildly appalled when A draped a towel over my head and began chafing my face with it, none too gently.

"Uh. Okay. I can do this myself."

"You can't be left to do _anything_ by yourself," she answered snappishly.

That was my cue to shut up and leave her to her business. She forcefully dried my hair, my head, and my shoulders, sighing at the end to signify that she was done. I wondered if it was safe to say something yet, or if that might provoke her; thus, I remained wordless for some time even after she removed the towel. We let the footfalls of rain echo against our silence.

Then gently, very gently, she put her hands on my shoulders and gave them a little squeeze.

"BB. Today, we part ways."

I tried to look at her over my shoulder, but the angle was awkward. I faced forward again. L... was L coming tonight, then?

"I just wanted you to know," she began, softly, "that I have never believed that I could actually surpass him. I never wanted to." She paused. "Because, somewhere along the way, I lost a friend."

A removed her hands from my shoulders and walked around to my side. She sat beside me on the wooden steps to Wammy's, folding her hands loosely in her lap, staring heavenward. "BB... let's meet again someday, in another place, and at another time. ...Although I wonder if, by then, we will still recognize that you are you, and I am I." She looked at me, sadly.

"What do you mean?" I quipped without thinking. "Amaranthine is Amaranthine, no matter what."

We were quiet.

"...And so the same for you. Beyond Birthday is always Beyond Birthday," she replied, slowly. The bell tower tolled.

_Once, twice, three times_. A leaned toward me.

_Four times, five times, six_. She put her arms around me, her chin resting on my shoulder.

_Seven, eight, and nine_. Her tender warmth encircled me like a halo.

"You didn't come, BB. But I forgive you. I came in your place."

By twelve, I woke up.

**-x-**

Disoriented, I flailed momentarily beneath my blanket before taking in my surroundings and trying to think logically. I was still in the catacombs... when had I fallen asleep? What time was it? The underground cavern was perfectly soundless and still; I even began to doubt whether I had really heard the bell.

...And since when did I have a blanket?

I removed the covers and switched on my flashlight. Rising slowly, I peered around the living room. Something felt wrong.

"Hello? Anyone... in here? Hellooo-oo?" I pointed the flashlight every which way, trying to find something that was out of place. Nothing. I shone the light on the stone pedestal, where the framed picture and marble tablet stood, undisturbed, like two brave sentinels. I shone the light across the floor and across the exit. Nothing but dust and rotten particles. I even dragged the cone of light over the walls, doing a quick head count of all the skulls. 2396. Just like always. Everything was in its rightful...

There.

What was it?

Somehow, a length of rope had been secured to the ceiling, dangling ominously in the air over the entrance to Tunnel 5. It was moving lightly, swinging side-to-side by centimeters, spurred into motion by some unknown force. Bringing down the flashlight, I saw--

Oh my God.

A...

...perfectly good jar of jam. The strawberry variety. What kind of twisted person would do this?

As I cumulated my indignant outrage, I heard a dull thud from within the tunnel. Curious, I entered and scanned the premises. I almost missed it, too -- the tiny body that blended in so well with the dreary darkness.

* * *

**Aimé Chèrement; Dearly Beloved**

"I hear the whispered words within your masterpiece -- beautiful. You speak the unspeakable through: I love you, too. The love runs deeper than my bones... I wanna be there for you." - _There For You_ by Flyleaf (Demo version - lyrics rearranged)

**--x--**

A.

A was dead.

And I remember everything.

My invention didn't work as planned -- it wasn't supposed to blow a rupture through the chest. I saw her sanguine body huddled on the ground, her heart ejected out of her ribs perfectly. Her eyes were closed, and her face was placid. I remembered kneeling there, immersed in her blood, lifting her corpse and embracing it. I remembered the feeling of the still-warm blood oozing all across the front of my body, the drainage of A's life passing from her to me. In a way, she foiled my plans. In a way, she preserved my life.

Then I found myself wondering what _L_'s blood would feel like.

I laughed. I nudged her pallid face with my cheek and kissed the wound where her heart should have been. I continued laughing, loud and louder, feeling pleasantly numb and enjoying a strange, drug-like high. Gone with this fragile soul were all my inhibitions.

Thank you, A.

Thank you for stepping so kindly aside.

Because now, L would be _mine_.

**--x--**

A Rose and an Amaranth blossomed side by side in a garden,  
and the Amaranth said to her neighbour,  
"How I envy you your beauty and your sweet scent!  
No wonder you are such a universal favourite."  
But the Rose replied with a shade of sadness in her voice,  
"Ah, my dear friend, I bloom but for a time:  
my petals soon wither and fall, and then I die.  
But your flowers never fade, even if they are cut;  
for they are everlasting."

Moral: Greatness carries its own penalties.

- _Aesop's Fables_

* * *

**Epilogue of Sorts**

**--x--**

"A lot changed after that."

"What? Why?"

"She... well... a suicide manifesto was taped to Roger's door. I don't know what it said, but I guess it's what made the changes."

"Well, what changed?"

"Let's see... for one thing, they stopped naming the kids by rank and used the first letter of our real names instead. I think they changed the class curriculums too, but I'm not sure, 'cause it didn't affect my beginner classes or anything. I heard they even closed off some parts of the building, but I don't know where. One thing was for sure, though: L stopped visiting. In person, I mean, not like with the laptop and speakers."

"Damn, I've always wanted to meet L. What's he look like?"

"Mm... I forget."

"Geez, Matt."

At that moment, the door swung open and Near entered the room. Mello growled. "_What_, Near?"

"Ah, Mello. I thought I should inform you that Roger is coming down the hall. He looks quite angry. I think he wants you."

"Dammit!" Mello muttered, getting up from the floor and dashing to the door. "Matt, when I get back, I wanna know how A was killed." He exited.

Near and Matt heard a muffled bellowing, followed by loud, thumping footsteps. They were unconcerned.

"_Who_ was killed?"

"No one, Near. It's nothing you need to worry about."

Near shrugged and shuffled over to his toy chest, digging around in the contents.

Meanwhile, Matt settled back onto his bed and removed the goggles from around his neck. Fingering the strap, he began again to reminisce about events that time and repression had begun to obscure in his memory. How _was_ A killed? He didn't know. Where was BB during that time? He didn't remember. However, there was one memory that he'd retained, pristine and clear. On the night before she went missing...

"Oh, Matt. Is this yours?"

Near held up an odd trinket, small enough to fit snugly in his little hand. It was rather beautiful; a smoothly carved wooden hoop with a mesh of silvery strings in the center, like interwoven harp strings. There were three tassels which dangled from the hoop, though they weren't exactly tassels, but more like hanging assortments of feathers and beads. At the end of the middle tassel hung a little bell, similar to one of those lightweight tree ornaments seen during Christmas. It glinted golden, although it seemed to have a tiny smudge of pink on the underside.

Matt leaned forward and observed the mini-dreamcatcher carefully.

"Mmm... Nope. Not mine."

* * *

(1) Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia - fear of long words. xD (Sorry, that was for my own amusement...)

(2) Untold explanation? Possible future story?? Hint hint. Nudge nudge.

(3) 1500 meters -- slightly less than one mile

(Bonus sneak tribute to episode 25, too!)

* * *

**From the Author:** WHOA. That was long.

But I hope you enjoyed this one, _mes copains_. (mah buddiez) :D

**--x--**

By the way, isn't BB just a _maniac_? His eccentricity is only subtly shown, because the story is told from _his_ perspective -- and eccentric people are, after all, blissfully unaware of their own unconventionality. Basically, I wanted to make B as strange a character as possible without outright stating it. It's only blatantly obvious at the end, where... you-know-who dies.

Speaking of A. How weird is their relationship? Sometimes B hates her. Sometimes B loves her. I dunno. And yes, I made up her real name, Amaranthine. It refers to the imaginary, undying (ironic!) flower of Greek legend, also said to be the sacred flower of Artemis.

Now, again, certain questions are left unanswered, but they will be put to rest in later stories. The one thing I am leaving open to interpretation is this: "greatness carries its own penalties." A was undoubtedly brilliant, with the potential to surpass L, but her fatal flaw was... well. You decide that.


	5. Kira Fantasy

**Note:** It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry about that... Fortunately, school has finally unleashed me upon summer vacation, and so I generally have more time now. I have a lot of different ideas buzzing around my head, too; once I settle down and actually choose one to work with, I hope to be able to pick up the pace in updating. I... hope.

Anyways, today I have for you a pleasant surprise. It is a dedication to Final Fantasy 7! It may be difficult for those who have never played the game to understand the parodies, but I think it's still rather entertaining. So please, help yourselves to the "I can't believe it's not crack!" (Because it is.)

Also, thank you dearly to those readers/reviewers who have stayed with me thus far. Really, thank you. :)

* * *

**"Gimme Mah Chocolate, Foo'!"**  
Documentary 4: Kira Fantasy

**--x--**

**New Game  
Continue**

-

**(**_click continue_**)**

* * *

**All Party Stats (1)**

**--x--**

**Name**: Light Yagami  
**Job**: Mercenary / Bodyguard  
**Weapon**: Giant Sword  
**Stats**: Strength - 50; Defense - 35; Magic - 30; Speed - 20; Luck - 5  
**Limit**: Charge of the Light Brigade

**Name**: L  
**Job**: Merchant of Sweets  
**Weapon**: Stirring Rod  
**Stats**: Strength - 20; Defense - 40; Magic - 50; Speed - 15; Luck - 10  
**Limit**: Justice Protector

**Name**: A  
**Job**: Bakery Hostess  
**Weapon**: Glove  
**Stats**: Strength - 40; Defense - 35; Magic - 25; Speed - 25; Luck - 10  
**Limit**: Strawberry Heaven

**Name**: Watari  
**Job**: Leader of WAMMY  
**Weapon**: Gun-arm  
**Stats**: Strength - 45; Defense - 40; Magic - 15; Speed - 10; Luck - 5  
**Limit**: Wammy Catastophe

**Name**: BB  
**Job**: Beast  
**Weapon**: Head / Bare Hands  
**Stats**: Strength - 40; Defense - 35; Magic - 35; Speed - 20; Luck - 5  
**Limit**: Lunatic High

Current Battle Party:  
Light, L, and A.

* * *

**Our Story Unfolds...**

**--x--**

Kira rules the world, killing thousands by mysterious heart attacks and collecting their life forces to create an ultimate weapon of immense destruction. The rebel group, WAMMY, is one of the few organizations opposing Kira's tyranny. However, opposing Kira is no laughing matter -- and, unfortunately, he may be closer than they know...

**--x--**

After rescuing L from the sinister clutches of Sakura TV, the party managed to escape the Kanto region of Japan. They've even recruited BB, one of the survivors of Sakura TV's experiments in splicing humans with "Shinigami" DNA. The group fled to the slums of Kyoto, where they could find temporary rest at the WAMMY base headquarters. But where to go from here? Surely, President Demegawa was after them as we speak...

As the group entered her bakery, A asked, "L, are you all--"

"Are you all right?? What did they do to you there, L?" Light asked, concerned (but not really).

"...Er... nothing..." was the stoic reply.

"Don't you remember, L?!" BB exclaimed suddenly. "They tried to make us _breed_!" And he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

The bakery went very quiet.

**-x-**

"L! L, mah boi! Dat you, son?!"

After a long, intense period of silence in which L and BB were stared at relentlessly, the voice of Watari could be heard calling from the secret storage room at the back of the bakery. Glad to have some attention shift away from him, L hastily responded.

"Yes, Watari. I am back."

A giant, muscular man -- a rather _old_, giant, and muscular man -- burst forth from the secret storage area and embraced L with vigor.

"Ahem. Thank you, Watari."

That was the old man's cue to release him. He did as such. However, Watari's expression became grim as he informed the party, "Listen up, y'all. Dat damned Demegawa's sent his men over ta Sector England, an' our WAMMY youth division be in danger, yo."

A gasp resounded around the group. Except for BB, who kept wiggling his eyebrows at L.

"Well, looks like we'll just have to get to Sector England before Demegawa!" Light stated heroically. He was met with a determined nod from each of his party members.

"Let's go, then. If we leave immedia--"

A, the voice of reason, was cut off by BB.

"Let's go, already!! BB wants to ride airship!"

The group stormed out the door, followed by an exasperated A. Sighing, she turned back and said, "Light, are you coming?"

"Yes, I'll be just a minute. You... go on ahead." And when the bakery was clear, Light let rip a poorly muffled cackle. Now that they were headed directly for Sector England, where the main headquarters of the WAMMY's resided, he couldn't help but wallow in victory.

'_Just as planned_.'

* * *

**One Unimportant Airship Ride Later**

**--x--**

The party exited the airship, making their way cautiously to the outskirts of Sector England. It was a bit junky -- all sectors seemed fated to deteriorate into slums nowadays -- but it wasn't a wasteland, and that meant that they still had time. Everything seemed fine, and the party made it safely to the gates, when...

**BEGIN BATTLE!**

A hail of bullets shower the party. (-200 HP each.)

**Light**: Oh no, it's the NHN! (2) How could they have _possibly_ found us??

**L**: Light, suspicion of you being Kira has raised 8 percent. (3)

**Light**: !!

-

Light (1800 HP), L (900 HP), A (1450 HP)  
vs.  
Takada's Thug 1, Takada's Thug 2, Takada's Thug 3

-

Light _attacks_ Thug 1. (-350 HP)

L casts _Healing Tea_ on party. (recover 500 HP each)

A _attacks_ Thug 1. (-325 HP) Thug 1 is KO'd!

-

Thug 2 throws _grenade_ at L.

Interception! Light _covers_ L. (-400 HP)

Thug 3 casts _Fire 2_ on A. (-600 HP) **Limit break!!**

-

Light _steals_ "pen" from Thug 2.

L casts _Comet_ on Thug 2. (-2000 HP) Thug 2 is KO'd!

A uses _Deathblow_ on Thug 3. (Critical hit: -700 HP) Thug 3 is KO'd!

**--x--**

**Light**: L, I've told you already -- I'm not Kira. I'm just your faithful bodyguard. Would Kira risk himself to cover you from an explosive?

**L**: Perhaps. Perhaps not. ...Kira.

**A**: Stop bickering, you, and pay attention! More of them are...

-

Misa casts _Pervert Buster_ on L. (Critical hit: -1500 HP) L is KO'd!

-

**A**: L, oh no! Light, you lazy ass, do something!

(Party swap: BB replaces L.)

**A**: ...That's not what I meant, jerk.

**Misa**: Light!! Misa-Misa is so glad to find you! Please come with us, Light! You'd make Misa-Misa so happy!!

**BB**: Misa-Misa is a fool.

-

Light (1900 HP), BB (2200 HP), A (1350 HP)  
vs.  
Takada's Guard 1, Misa Amane, Takada's Guard 2

-

Guard 1 _attacks_ BB. (-250 HP)

Guard 2 _attacks_ BB. (-300 HP)

-

Light casts _Sense_ on Misa. (HP: 3000; MP: 500; Weakness: Light Yagami)

BB casts _Berserk_ on BB. (Loses control; attack x3 potency)

A uses _Limit Break _on Misa. (5-hit combo: -2200 HP)  
_Sugar Rush _-_ Gingersnap _-_ Cake Beater _-_ Orphan Strike _-_ Strawberry Heaven_

-

Misa casts _Death_ on A. (Instant K.O.)

Guard 1 casts _Cure_ on Misa. (recovers 300 HP)

Guard 2 casts _Cure_ on Misa. (recovers 300 HP)

-

Party swap: Watari (2700 HP) replaces A.

Light casts _Cure 2_ on Misa. (recovers 700 HP)

**BB** and **Watari**: Fool!!

**Light**: Oh, er, whoops. I... missed.

BB _attacks_ Misa. (-900 HP)

Watari uses _potion_ on BB. (recovers 200 HP)

-

Misa casts _DEATH NOTE_ on BB and Watari. (Instant K.O.)

-

**Light**: (Hehehe...)

**??**: Not so fast, skank!!

-

**New Allies?!**  
Mello (2000 HP), Near (1050 HP), Matt (2300 HP), Linda (1300 HP)

-

Linda _steals_ "DEATH NOTE" from Misa.

Mello uses _Flaming Chaos _limit break on Misa. (-1600 HP) Misa is KO'd!

Matt uses _phoenix down_ on L. Party member revived!

Near summons _SPK_ on all enemies. (3-hit combo: -2400 HP per enemy) Guard 1 and Guard 2 are KO'd!

-

**Light**: Oh... eh... thank goodness.

**L**: Up by 16 percent.

* * *

**Additional Party Stats**

**--x--**

**Name**: Near  
**Job**: Fortune Teller  
**Weapon**: Tarot Cards (and giant Rester)  
**Stats**: Strength - 20; Defense - 25; Magic - 40; Speed - 10; Luck - 30  
**Limit**: Toy Slot Machine

**Name**: Mello  
**Job**: Mafia Gunman  
**Weapon**: Gun  
**Stats**: Strength - 45; Defense - 35; Magic - 30; Speed - 15; Luck - 10  
**Limit**: Flaming Chaos

**Name**: Matt  
**Job**: Airship Pilot  
**Weapon**: Spear  
**Stats**: Strength - 35; Defense - 45; Magic - 20; Speed - 15; Luck - 5  
**Limit**: Dynamite

**Name**: Linda  
**Job**: Art Thief  
**Weapon**: Shuriken  
**Stats**: Strength - 30; Defense - 20; Magic - 25; Speed - 30; Luck - 20  
**Limit**: Origami Massacre

Choose Current Party:  
Light, L, Mello

**--x--**

And so, as the battle drew to a close, the WAMMY youths revived their fallen allies. L watched with great approval, while occasionally elbowing Light in the gut. When the entire party was again assembled, and it seemed that the field was clear of enemies, the WAMMY's began their reunion of love.

"L!" Mello bellowed happily, dancing a little dance. It may have been humorous, although the general public knew better than to laugh at Mello.

Except BB.

"Tee-hee! M dances silly."

He was now wiggling his eyebrows at the blonde. It was rather intimidating.

Ignoring Mello's trepidation, Near turned to L. "How is the Kira hunt?"

"Hrmm. Well, I have a suspect--" He glared pointedly in Light's direction. "--yet there is no proof."

"Oh. L, sir, what about this?" Linda waved the stolen DEATH NOTE in her hand.

"What... what is this...?" L said, awed, as he accepted the NOTE.

"Miss Amane used this weapon in battle, correct?" Near stated, observing the book interestedly. "Though, it seems to be nothing more than a mere notebook."

"No," L said, still regarding the object with wonder. "No, I believe this could be the key to the case. After writing something in this notebook, Amane was able to put three of our allies into a near-death state. What if... what if this is Kira's..."

"_**MATT!!**_"

* * *

**Interregnum**

**--x--  
**

**Date: **June 14  
**Time: **Early Saturday Morning**  
Age span: **Mello - 14, Matt - 13, Near - 12

**--x--**

"Matt, wake up."

"Matt, you bastard, wake up."

"Dammit, Matt."

"Matt."

"_**MATT!!**_"

At this, the boy stirred. His body flopped over like a dead man, green eyes slowly exposing themselves to the world. And Mello's face. Striking, vibrant, and only three inches away.

"Hey, Mel," Matt mumbled.

"Matt, you bastard, my chocolate melted."

He said this as though it explained everything.

"So?"

"_So_, it's too hot in this room. Get off your ass and hack the orphanage cooling system. And, after that, you can take a nice walk to the kitchen."

"...To get you chocolate." It was almost a question, though not really. Chocolate was the only motive Mello ever had in ordering Matt to "take a walk."

"To get me chocolate," the blonde confirmed.

Matt sighed, obligingly getting up off his wonderful mattress and pushing away his Mario-print covers. He scratched himself idly, stalling for a few moments to regain full consciousness. Mello rolled into Matt's bottom-bunk bed as soon as it was vacated, making himself all smug and comfortable. Near slumbered silently on the single bed in the corner of the room. It must've been about 4:00 in the morning.

As Matt scratched idly at his behind, preparing to leave for the kitchen, he decided to ask a totally random question.

"Hey, Mel?"

"What?"

"Do you believe in Death Notes?"

"Do I _what_?"

Mello gave Matt a light kick in the butt. "Shut up and get my chocolate, slave."

* * *

(1) Profiles clearly based off of FF7 characters. Final Fantasy 7, and all the demesne therein, is copyright of Square Enix.

(2) Sakura TV -- Shinra Company. NHN -- the Turks.

(3) Tribute to **MysteriousPenname**. :)

* * *

**From the Author****:** I think I ought to stop chugging hot sauce before bed. (L is Aeris, asfgadslkg!! xD) This must be the most undeniably crack-esque work I have ever incarnated.

If this made no sense to you whatsoever, I apologize. Please excuse my inane sense of humor. :) Conversely, if you actually enjoyed this piece of not-crack, I'd love to hear your comments. Should I continue with the adventures of Kira Fantasy? Ideas, suggestions, party preferences, etc. are all welcome!

(Psst. Final Fantasy 7 fans, did you catch all the character parallels...? xD)


	6. Another Trip Around the Sun

**Note:** ITZ MAH BIRTHDAI. (June 25th, my lovelies.)

Aha. Yes. And so, I was inspired to honor another certain someone who _also_ happens to have a summer birthday. Of course, with my scatterbrained sense of time, I've posted this birthday commemoration two months before his actual day: August 24. Nevertheless! I shall have us both celebrate our One-Year-Closer-to-Death-Day _today_!

And this is how it's done.

Happy (really early) birthday, **Near**, you cute little bastard. :)

* * *

**"Gimme Mah Chocolate, Foo'!"**  
Documentary 5: Another Trip Around the Sun

**--x--**

**Date: **August 24  
**Time: **Sunday Morning  
**Age Span**: Mello - 11, Matt - 11, Near - 10

**--x--**

Near was hiding.

Now, allow me to explain. Near is a logical person. He also has a keen sense of intuition that tends to hone in on things that others would not normally perceive. However, these two qualities have nothing to do with a calendar, and he tends to lose track of the summer days the same way all children do when they're busy idling their brains into gruel.

Fortunately, Near is a logical person with keen intuition.

It was somewhere in the back of his mind... this feeling. He didn't know exactly why, but ever since he'd shuffled down the hall to use the bathroom for his daily morning rituals, he had this strange feeling. It was as though some warning radar were going off in his head. And the logical thing to do, of course, would be to heed this internal warning.

This feeling of impending doom.

_That_ was why Near was currently suffocated inside the wooden toy chest in his room, crunched beneath a mass of hard, plastic objects with sharp edges. That was why. But if anyone were to ask...

...it was Mello's fault.

* * *

**The Plot Thickens**

**--x--**

"Yo, Roger. What're all these thingamajiggers for?"

The hallway was embellished from floor to ceiling in party decorations.

"Young man, you will refer to me as 'Mr. Roger,' like everyone else in the orphanage." (Unbeknownst to Roger, no one actually referred to him as "Mr.") "And do not use such inane language. The proper name for these 'thingamajiggers' is silly string."

"...You totally evaded my question."

"Exactly."

Roger did an about-turn and walked away, dignified, with three cans of silly string secured under each arm.

Matt sighed and rubbed at the back of his head. Apparently, Roger couldn't stop spraying his infernal, multicolored decorations long enough to inform Matt of just what was going on. Silly string and streamers adorned the ceiling and walls, balloons hovered freely in every corner of the hall, and traces of shiny confetti dotted the carpet. Indeed, what _was_ the big deal...? Of course, if the little red-headed prodigy had cared enough to think about it, he would have known immediately.

Then again, he would've known anyway, as soon as Mello rampaged up the stairs in a ridiculous cowboy get-up.

The two geniuses stared in mutual silence.

"...Mel?"

"Matt."

"Today's the day... isn't it?"

"Oh yeah."

"You... haven't had any chocolate today... have you?"

"Not a one."

_Good Lord_.

**--x--**

Really, why did he even _have_ that 128-piece set of legos anyway? They were most unpleasant when jabbing into one's skin from various different angles...

Such were Near's thoughts at the moment. He had been in this toy box for about half an hour, and already, the scarcity of oxygen was beginning to make him delirious. Yet, he still felt that pang of impending doom, and he still could not quite place it. He wondered vaguely if it was post-the-rankings-day, and if so, perhaps his instincts were telling him to hide from Mello's jealous wrath.

No, that couldn't be right. Rankings were always posted by 7 a.m. in the morning, so Mello would have already throttled him by now. So, then... what _was_ this feeling?

"NEAR! NEAR! NEAR! HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAY--!!"

Even from within the confines of the wooden toy box, Near could feel the room shake from the force that had thrashed his door open and screeched a greeting. Intuitively, Near had known who it was from the moment she'd turned the knob: Linda.

"Eh? Oh, Near, where are you?"

Oh-ho! His hiding place was absolute genius. She'd never--

The lid of the toy chest opened abruptly, the bright morning sun catching poor Near off guard. Distantly, he heard someone exclaim, "There you are!" and felt himself bodily extracted from the sea of toys, never to return for an eternity. Or, at least, for the rest of this infernal birthday.

* * *

**Sing It, Roger**

**--x--**

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birth -- not all of you are _singing_ -- day to you!..."

Please. To whatever higher power existed: please, just strike him down now and let his soul escape this mortal horror.

Unfortunately, Near had no such luck. Roger just kept singing that stupid song, and everyone else sitting at the long, rectangular table was somewhere between half-asleep and annoyed-beyond-all-reason. Near, sitting alone at the head of the table, was mortified. There was a ludicrous, polka-dotted party hat crammed on top of his head, and he was surrounded on all sides by caretakers, Linda, and Roger -- who simply _would_ _not _stop singing.

There was no escape. No escape at all.

This was where he was going to die.

Eventually, in the midst of Roger's unending birthday song (which was merely a repeat of the same four words, mind you), a shy child shuffled into the room and waved for attention. It was Equinox, a timid eight-year-old who rarely spoke or did anything of worthwhile mention.

"U-Um... Roger..."

"_Mr._ Roger to you, young man."

"...Yeah... Well, Mello's doing something weird in the bathroom, and um... there were these noises and stuff... I'm kinda scared."

Roger suddenly choked on his song and his face flushed for some inexplicable reason. He adjusted his tie nervously and began to hurry out of the room, beckoning for the other caretakers to follow. The adults left the party without another word, and the children simply stared after them with innocent wonder.

As soon as the staff had left, Equinox ran urgently to Near's side in a flurry of apology and confusion.

"Near, Near! I'm so sorry! They - they... I... Mello told me to do it -- and Matt said he'd give me a dollar, and - and..." He wrung his little hands nervously, eyes darting back and forth. "You have to get away! Go, hurry, please! I'm so sorry, I'm so--"

The lights blacked out. There were no windows in the dining hall, and the children were left to murmur anxiously in utter darkness.

"Oh, oh no..." wailed Equinox's voice from somewhere beside Near. "I'm so sorry..."

* * *

**Now Show 'Em How It's Really Done**

**--x--**

For some time, there were only low murmurs in the dark. Then, as suddenly as they'd been turned off, the lights flicked on again dimly -- courtesy of Solstice, who stood stoically by the light switch. Near happened to notice a conspicuous dollar in her hand.

The main double-doors of the hall burst open, and Mello rode triumphantly into the room... In other words, he was piggybacking on Matt. Who, by the way, was wearing a ridiculous horse costume -- counterpart to Mello, who was wearing a ridiculous cowboy costume.

"Solstice, the switch!" the blonde commanded haughtily.

Their assistant obliged, pulling a mysterious boom box out from behind a potted plant and switching it on.

"Oooooohh..." Mello hummed, hillbilly music seeping out from the boom box. "_Once a year we celebrate, with stupid hats and plastic plates, the fact that you were able to make another trip around the sun_!"

Near stared. _What_ in the name of all things plastic were they _doing_?

"**Happy Birthday**!" Matt shouted.

"_Now you're one year older_!" Mello sang in correspondence.

"**Happy Birthday**!"

"_Your life still isn't over_!"

"**Happy Birthday**!"

"_You did not accomplish much -- but you didn't die this year, I guess that's good enough_!"

The kids around the table gawked at the duo as they "galloped" around the table, purposely throwing confetti into girls' hair and various open cups of soda.

"**Happy Birthday**!"

"_What have you done that matters_?!"

"**Happy Birthday**!"

"_You're starting to get fatter_!"

"**Happy Birthday**!"

"_It's downhill from now on! Try not to remind yourself: your best years are all gone_!"

Linda, standing at Near's right hand, looked highly affronted by this unruly show. It may as well have been her own birthday being desecrated.

"**Happy Birthday**!"

"_You wish you had more money_!"

"**Happy Birthday**!"

"_Your life's so sad it's funny_!"

"**Happy Birthday**!"

"_How much more can you take?! But your friends are hungry, so just cut the stupid cake_!" (1)

**--x--**

Matt galloped around the table a couple more times as the awful country music began to dissipate. Then, the duo attempted to finish their little scene with a flourish by going right up to Near, and--

Oh. So close.

Matt, clumsy with the burden of Mello's chocolate-enhanced weight, accidentally ran into the corner of the table, piercing himself painfully in the side and doubling over. Consequently, Mello fell forward off of Matt, somersaulted into Near, and caused the three boys to crumble into a pile of flailing limbs.

And this is how Near was struck down by the gods on his infernal birthday.

* * *

(1) Birthday Song of Awe composed by Adam Sandler! xD Don't know the actual name. Birthday Song of Awe is just what I call it. But I tell you this: YOU MUST FIND THIS SONG. Youtube it. Listen to it. For it is the song of my soul.

* * *

**From the Author****:** What? What do you mean this doesn't make _sense_?! It's my BIRTHDAY, it's not SUPPOSED to make sense!! Geez. Upset the order of the universe, why don't you?

Lawlz! Thank you for reading. :)


	7. Final Destination B: I

**Note:** Alternate (excuse the pun) reality: what if A hadn't offed herself? What if the whole Wammy crew were destined to die all at once? Can the fateful numbers above one's head be rearranged...? Well. I now present to you my latest (and abominably late) chapter of not-crack, whose title suspiciously resembles a certain horror/thriller movie that I absolutely adore.

But fear not, my morbid readers. You have the first and second generations of orphaned genii to accompany you on your... fun ride. :)

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* * *

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**"Gimme Mah Chocolate, Foo'!"**  
Documentary 6: Final Destination B (Part I)

**--x--**

**Date: **July 31  
**Time: **Friday Night  
**Age Span**: L - 24, A - 21, B - 22,  
Mello - 14, Near - 12, Matt - 14

**--x--**

"You can't cheat death."

**--x--**

"BB. Are you awake?"

A never slept well at night. But then, I never slept well either, and that's how I knew. Her problem was that she woke too often, and mine was that I never fell asleep in the first place. Thus, I was very nearly _always_ awake, but she didn't know that, and so she rarely consulted me in the middle of the night like now.

I rolled over to the outer edge of the bed, which jutted out enough that I could stand on the mattress and look over the ledge of the upper bunk. A lay there on her side, cocooned in her covers and facing me.

"What's the matter?"

Her eyelids fluttered shut and she sighed.

"I was just thinking... I remembered what you said. The first day, when we met. I remember what you said about your eyes," she murmured. "You can tell when someone's dying, right?"

I remembered that day, too. It had been a few years since I first arrived at Wammy's.

"Yeah. I can see their numbers dropping."

She nodded, rolling over and staring up at the ceiling.

"If you know when a person will die, then... is it possible to save someone?"

"Don't know. I've never seen it happen, and I've never tried."

"But what do you think?"

"...No. Probably not. If it's time to die, it's time to die."

"Would you save me?"

I stared at her as she stared at the ceiling. I leaned against the railing, placing my head down on my arms, and considered it quietly. After some time, her hand reached out from the blankets and gently tidied my tousled bed hair.

"That's okay."

**--x--**

At the age of 12, A ran away.

I left soon after she did, though not in the same manner. L took a sudden, great interest in my existence, and he offered me a position as his apprentice. Yes, I knew without doubt that it was only because the first-in-line was gone. Nevertheless, I was thrilled beyond words and accepted. Over the years, we solved cases together, saw the world together, and grew up together. I admired him deeply. Since the day I had met him in person, long ago in the kitchen at Wammy's, I had admired him.

He, on the other hand, regarded me with a sort of cold indifference. In the spare moments we were left alone -- when Watari had exited the room, and the cases we had taken were all solved, and the news had lapsed into the dullest of stories -- he ignored me. If I was acknowledged at all during these quiet intermissions, it was little more than, "Are you going to eat that?" It was disheartening. Infuriating. Condescension did not sit well with me, and I was his partner in crime (solving), after all. Wasn't I?

...No. Probably not. For I was the successor of a successor, and forever second. Oh, how I hated that.

But I loved him.

* * *

**Friendly Reception**

**--x--**

"Home sweet home, huh?"

I threw my suitcase on one of the beds and flopped down on the other. L dragged his wheelie suitcase to the other bed and heartily shoved my stuff onto the floor. "Unpack your own things, B."

We occasionally returned to Wammy's if there was a case in the area or, more infrequently, at the random command of L. Whimsical bastard. Truth be told, however, I didn't mind coming home once in a while. It was just the gathering up of things and subsequent unloading that was always tedious.

"But that's _your_ job, my sweet little wife. So be a good spouse and fold my things up nice -- I'll make it worth your while." I winked just to drive the taunt deeper. Of course _I_ would be the husband; puberty had been good to me. I was four inches taller and thirty pounds broader than my dear mentor.

"Please do not involve me in your bizarre fantasies," he replied coolly, unzipping his luggage.

"You know you like it," I muttered, yanking my suitcase over and snapping it open. "So, Boss, what's on the agenda for today?"

I watched as L proceeded to pull his things out and pile them on the bed. Some clothes, a laptop case, wires, bags of candy, and miscellaneous paraphernalia. I crossed the room and sat on his bed, picking the clothes from his pile. This slob couldn't fold fabric to save his life.

When L had emptied his bag, he placed a thumb contemplatively against his bottom lip. "...Do you like children, B?"

I squinted an eye and gazed at him curiously.

"Oh, my. You're already considering children? Don't you think we're moving a little too fast?"

He gave a frigid stare, and I laughed.

L scratched at his head as he elaborated. "Watari believes that it would be beneficial if we forged a 'warm, fraternal relationship' with the other immediate successors." He sighed, shoulders drooping a little.

"Pffthahaha! I see, I see. This is Mr. Philanthro-pants's idea. Why all of a sudden?"

"I do not know." He pushed the suitcase under the bed with his foot, then crouched on the mattress, selecting a bag of candy from the pile. "I find that Watari has planned this rendezvous quite meticulously. He has already assigned us our, and I quote, 'little buddies.' We will be chaperoning them to a carnival that is in town this evening."

I grabbed his bag of gummy worms and emptied a few into my mouth. "Fine. Whatever. Who're the little punks?"

L snatched the bag back indignantly and plucked a worm out with his thumb and forefinger. "I have Near, and you have Mello."

"Can we switch?"

"...Why?"

"Watari likes you better. Your kid is probably more fun."

"B, do not be petty. You will accompany Mello to the amusement park, and you will behave yourself. Understand?"

"That depends." I stretched out on the bed, supporting my weight with my elbows and cupping my head in my hands. "Will you spank me if I misbehave?" (1)

L promptly flipped me off the bed.

**-x-**

We trudged down the vacant hallway, one that I had walked many times in the past. It looked the same as ever: same boring carpet, same boring wallpaper, and same boring lettering, which announced, as if there were any doubt, that this was Roger's Office. Watari had led the way and was now knocking politely at the door. A young voice from the other side called out an impatient "What?!" and we entered.

A blonde boy stood near the door, halted mid-stride, and gasped. "You... you're...!"

Roger calmly shouldered the child aside and shook hands with Watari. "Hello, old friend. Hello, L." He nodded to L. "And B." He patted me on the arm.

The loud blonde gaped at L with bugged-out eyes and thorough fascination. (At least I wasn't _that_ obvious when I was his age.) Looking around, I spotted another kid on the floor near Roger's desk, a dainty white thing in pajamas, and a redheaded boy lounging in a plush chair by the wall. I thought that one looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint the reason.

"This is Mello," Roger said, dragging the blonde kid by the shoulders and giving him a push in my direction. "That one is Near." He gestured to the boy sitting on the floor, staring at us with eyes eerily similar to my favorite detective's. L stared back at him, placing a thumb on his lip thoughtfully. I pinched the sleeve of my kid in an L-like manner and pulled him a little closer. He scowled at me.

I think we'll get along nicely.

"What about him?" I asked, pointing to the unnamed child in the chair.

"That would be Part Two of our meeting," Watari stated.

L cocked his head to the side.

"What is... Part Two?" he asked tentatively.

"The return of the Prodigal Daughter."

All eyes turned to the far side of the room, where Roger's revolving armchair turned slowly. I watched it with cold expectation, knowing that voice by heart, regardless of place and time. From my peripheral vision, I saw L's eyes flicker just slightly. The children exchanged questioning glances with one another, apparently unaware of the guest's presence until this moment.

Dramatic. How typical of you.

**--x--**

"Hi, Matt." She settled a hand on his shoulder. "Do you remember me? I used to take care of you when you were little."

The redhead blinked. He observed her silently until his eyes widened with recognition.

"Yeah... I remember..." he replied shyly.

Yeah. I remember, too.

She smiled faintly and reached up to ruffle his hair. "You look well. You're even taller than I am, now."

"Or maybe you're just _short_."

My voice sounded a tad too loud, even to my own ears.

It was true; she hadn't grown much, height-wise, since the day she'd left. That aside, she seemed to have matured significantly. There were the obvious changes -- the longer hair, the lower voice, the larger bust (though not by much, I noticed snidely). But the not-so-obvious alterations were there, too. She had that familiar taciturn disposition, but there was a new openness in her actions. It was an easiness of manner that allowed her to smile, to share her honest thoughts with what's-his-face, and to bear with self-assurance the center of our attention. I see you, A. I see you.

Meanwhile, the air in the room seemed to have staled uncomfortably. We stared at each other, the weight of my accusation and her pending response carried in the two-way gaze.

"Maybe," she conceded quietly.

* * *

**Round and Round, the Merry-Go-Round**

**--x--**

We were silent all the way to the car, which was a nice and roomy -- dare I say it? -- Wammivan (a.k.a. the Wammy Minivan). The three kiddies piled into the back and L sat up front with Watari, leaving A and I standing awkwardly outside the door, beside the middle two seats.

"Ladies first," I said stiffly.

She glanced at me and hesitated for a moment before stepping in. I followed, and as I slid the door shut with a thud, I heard L's voice ask, under his breath, "_How did you find her?_" Undoubtedly, the inquiry was meant for Watari.

I just couldn't resist.

"YEAH! Hey, however did you find my BESTEST BFF?!" I shouted with a facade of glee, sticking my head between the two front seats.

Watari simply started up the car and backed out of the driveway, unfazed. After eight long years, he had grown resolutely immune to my brand of outrageous. L, on the other hand, was somewhat miffed, but he responded in his usual monotone.

"Sit down, B. And put on your seatbelt."

I rested my chin on the shoulder of his seat.

"Don't wanna," I stated airily.

I could hear some furtive giggles from the backseat, which sounded very much like my kid and what's-his-face.

"Stop that. You are setting a bad example."

"Oh, lighten up. The kids are teenyboppers, not toddlers."

"WHAT?! WHAT did he call me?!"

"Calm down, Mels."

"Mello, please refrain from stomping on my foot."

"You see? You see what you've started?" L said wryly.

"_SHUT UP_, NEAR! Why don't you get your damn Transformer dolls off my seat, and then we'll talk?!"

"I don't see how any of this is _my_ fault, L. You're the adult here. Shame on you."

"For the last time, Mello, they are not _dolls_. And please do not use such expletives to tarnish their name."

"So I'm the adult. And what would that make you, pray tell?"

"Little ol' me? Why, I'm a very impressionable young man."

"IMPRESSIONABLE, MY ASS!"

"Oh, I don't think I heard that quite right. 'Press on your ass?' My, my. I'm afraid I can't oblige you, Mello. That would be statutory rape, and we've got a high-profile detective here just itching to lock me up."

"GRAAARRRGGHLLLRRAAAHH!!"

"Ah! Mel, no!"

"You are so barbaric, Mello."

I couldn't help but smirk at the raging blonde, clawing his way over the back of the seat that I _would_ have been sitting on, had I not defied L's authority. This, of course, is why independent thinking is an important aspect of one's personality. I also couldn't help but shake my rump in his face, just for kicks.

"That's. Quite. Enough."

My butt and Mello's face were simultaneously yanked down and shoved back. A hand clamped down on my throat, crushing me against the chair as a seatbelt was strapped across my body and clicked into place. My assailant then leaned over the seat and fought sharply with Blondie. In the end, a decisive click echoed from the back, and I knew that he had been subdued as well.

A seated herself calmly and snapped her own seatbelt back on, placing her elbow against the arm of the chair and resting her chin on her hand as she resumed staring out the window.

Partypooper.

"Glad to have you back," L muttered.

She closed her eyes wearily.

"Home sweet home..."

**--x--**

Watari dumped us off at the carnival and paid for the passepartout paper bracelets at the ticket stand. Then he drove off, leaving us to shepherd the kids into the park.

"Go!! Run, and be free, you tameless animals!" I shouted, waving my arms for effect.

Three, adorable heads stared back at me blankly. Hmm. Well, I had expected at least _my_ kid to run like hell.

"Perhaps we should... take a look around first," L suggested, quite clueless. I watched enviously as the others shrugged and followed his lead. I shoved my hands in my pockets and sulked at the back of the group. Stupid-Head stole my thunder.

**-x-**

Fortunately or not, the bratlings eventually developed a sincere enthusiasm for the amusement park rides. As such, we "adults" were dragged along on everything, everywhere.

I found the swing ride deeply amusing, mainly because the seats were so obviously not designed for twenty-plus-year-old men. L could squeeze in just barely, but there was no possible way that he would be able to maintain his gargoyle crouch. I, on the other hand, settled for perching my butt improperly on top of the seat, my limbs dangling out freely and the angry carny making meanie-faces at me as I swung around precariously. A, being about the size of a thirteen-year-old, happened to fit just fine in the seat next to mine. I repeatedly bashed the side of her swing and whooped during the ride. She was not amused.

Mello's favorite was the bumper cars, which was somehow very unsurprising. We paired up with our "little buddies," and needless to say, Mello and I owned the competition. Maliciously. In light of this, we bonded very well. L and Near, on the other hand, were satisfied with just buzzing around placidly, dodging most of Mello's attempts to, succinctly put, "Hit that little shit." I was very impressed, considering that _Near_ had been the driver throughout the entire escapade.

Our only rivals came in the form of She-Devil and What's-His-Face, who were admittedly very clever. While Mello and I crashed into just about every moving target, they zipped around benignly for a couple of laps and figured out an efficient system. Redhead was an exceptionally skilled evader and took the wheel whenever Mello and I happened to come up behind them. Once, however, when we had the misfortune of being in front, Princess hopped over to the driver's seat and sped into all of the cars around us -- just enough to scare, not bash -- and trapped us in a conglomeration of foolish drivers, forcing us into the wall. We were unable to extricate ourselves until the ride was, sadly, over.

Redhead and Near also excelled at the game booths, and What's-His-Face was kind enough to donate his winnings to the younger boy. Mello sorta sucked. I tried to show him how best to toss the balls/rings/darts: lightly, with just the right amount of oomph, but he couldn't seem to break away from the habit of launching every projectile full-force. One of the carnies started yelling after enduring about eight blows to the head (which, in hindsight, was not so unreasonable), but then _Mello_ started yelling, and a fierce storm of profanities broke out in public. I dragged him away as inconspicuously as possible, but... well. So much for bonding.

L's personal favorite was the teacup ride. Our group split into threesomes, big kids and little kids, in order to fit into the stations. L had wandered around the various teacups with a fond smile, choosing one that resembled an elegant blue china piece. We didn't bother spinning our cup, but Blondie and Redhead were ecstatic at the prospect of spinning themselves sick. Poor Near. It was he who took the brunt of the nauseating blow. Over in our cup, we simply let the breeze whip through our hair, taking a breather after attending to the young'uns for the last couple of hours. I put my feet up on the spinning circle, while A leaned back and closed her eyes. L perched happily in his usual position, eyes darting around to look at all the other park rides, noting with care where the food stands stood.

And the way the festive lights reflected in his dark irises, which glistened from within with puerile joy -- oh, his eyes were like starlight.

...I'd never tell him that, of course.

* * *

**Story Time**

**--x--**

"I'll hold his hair," A declared bravely.

As promised, she restrained the white, fluffy locks with one hand and rubbed comforting circles into his back with the other. Near mumbled his gratitude quickly, before emptying his nausea into the trash can. Her gesture made me somewhat reminiscent, recalling the times when I had gulped down too much expired jam, and she had performed the same service for me as I retched into the toilet.

But Near was surprisingly resilient. Within a matter of minutes, he was up and expressionless again, requesting a ride on the Ferris wheel. Mello and the Other One supported his petition with excited chatter. We gave in, but not before taking a short detour to the cotton candy stand. When we got to the Ferris wheel, we again split into our familiar threesomes. We supervised as the boys climbed into their carriage and secured the door, then entered the next carriage in line.

L crouched in the middle of one of the seats, shoved off-balance as I threw myself down beside him. A took the seat opposite, and L rose indignantly to sit beside her, picking at his cotton candy. I shrugged and stretched out on my bench, lying like a cat in the sun. Our carriage was silent for half a revolution, until we were at the top of the wheel and the last passengers had climbed into the carriage near the ground.

Time for the grown-ups to talk.

"Sooo... what the hell are you doing here?" I asked lightly.

I was never really one to beat around the bush.

A folded her hands in her lap and looked out the window.

"I finished and decided to visit. That's all."

"Finished _what_?" I prompted.

She glanced at L and me, surprised. "You never knew?"

We blinked at her, and she took the cue to elaborate. "All along, I thought you knew exactly where I was; I thought you'd try to find me. It wouldn't have been difficult, considering I didn't have many resources or connections when I left."

Her words chafed me most irritably. The implication, whether intended or not, was that we were too incompetent to track down a child. L took the initiative and saved me the trouble of responding, putting his cotton candy aside and clutching his kneecaps with his hands.

"No. We never knew. We did not search for you."

"...Oh."

She frowned and averted her gaze to the window. I could have high-fived him, his rebuttal was so perfect, but L looked rather moody at the moment, and I decided against it.

"So. Where'd you run off to, anyway?"

"America," she said without looking at me.

"The States, huh?" I said, sitting up and leaning forward. The real ride had begun now, and our carriage rocked gently as we began to descend. "Well, don't be shy. Give us _all_ the lovely details."

She was silent for a while, perhaps organizing her thoughts. It wasn't until our carriage began lifting into the air again that she took a deep breath and spoke. "I took a plane to America, and I arrived at New York. There, I tried to find a job in the local shops, but it was impossible. Few managers are willing to hire twelve-year-olds, let alone the secretive ones without any documentation. At night, I slept in the alleyways of the business district, which I had thought would be safer than the open park, or elsewhere in the city..."

She folded her hands again. It was a nervous habit that she had never broken, and I don't think she noticed it herself, actually, but I noticed. I always did.

"One night, a drunk chased me out of the alley and I got hit by a car while running across the street."

I saw L's expression shift slightly. There was a subtle look in his eyes that I couldn't quite place.

"I woke up in a hospital. The staff hadn't expected me to wake up at all. Or maybe they didn't want me to -- it would have been easier if I hadn't, since I was unidentified and homeless. Anyway, they said my heart couldn't be resuscitated, and I was technically dead long enough to incur brain damage, so they were ready to put me in the morgue. But I woke up, and my head was fine. They were ready to discharge me."

She paused and closed her eyes. "However... one of the doctors bid them to let me stay, at least until I could walk. That doctor was a middle-aged woman, a powerful and intimidating sort of person, but she had a gentle air about her, I think. She spent a lot of time with me, taking care of me, telling me about herself. She'd lost her husband and children, but she never mentioned how or why, and of course you can't probe about these kinds of things... Then she adopted me."

"_Adopted_?" I echoed with a snicker.

"Yeah." She opened her eyes. "I don't know; I thought she was lonely, perhaps. _I_ had nowhere else to go, so I considered myself lucky, assumed a false name, and went to live with her. She was very kind. When she found that I was unusually intelligent, she was terribly happy -- it was like all of her prayers had been answered -- and she put me through college. I don't know how she did it, but she managed to forge my documents and keep the whole ordeal concealed from the media. Personally, I think she may have resorted to graft and bribery... but she was just that kind of person. Nothing would get in her way."

A sighed and returned to looking out the window. "My... _mother_ died during my last year at the university; I was seventeen. It was terminal cancer. Apparently, it hadn't come as a surprise to anyone but me, since it had been diagnosed years prior. It was before we had met, and she never told me." She shifted slightly in her seat and looked down at her lap. "I think it was then that I realized... just why she stuck up for me at the hospital, and ultimately took me in. What she had wanted all along, having no family or children, was probably -- a successor."

"Ironic," L commented coldly.

"...Yes."

She did not meet his gaze. "I was left with all her money and worldly possessions, but I was indebted to her. For everything." She shook her head lightly. Meanwhile, our carriage had completed its third revolution, swooping once again over the peak of the Ferris wheel.

"I knew what she had always intended for me to do, so I used the money she'd set aside for my education and finished medical school. I'll be starting my residency soon," A concluded softly.

I whistled. "Quite a life. And here I always thought you were dead in a gutter somewhere." She threw me a withering look, and perhaps I had hit too close to home with that one, but whatever. "Back to my first question, now. What're you doing here?"

A looked to L for the first time since we'd entered the carriage. "Well," she sighed. "Death makes a person think. It forces a person to remember all the things never said or done, and consider all the things still left to do. In my life, I have had two extraordinary mentors, to whom I am indebted. One of them is dead now, but she knew that I loved her, and I can let her go. The other one..." She placed a hesitant little hand over his, which rested idly on his drawn-up knee. "...is right here. I came to thank him."

L stared down at her hand. "You planned the entire night for this?"

"Ah, no. Actually, the carnival was Watari's idea. I just have bad timing. He roped me in right after I called."

I snorted.

"Can't resist the Wammy charm."

L allowed a tiny smile -- which I found unbearably endearing -- until that bastard did the most unexpected thing in the world.

He took her hand and kissed the back of it gently. Both she and I were stunned speechless. Our shock was accented by a loud creak, followed by a sudden halt in the Ferris Wheel. We were at the top again, waiting silently as the first few passengers stepped out of their carriage below.

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(1) Looks like B's been listening to _Sexyback_! :O ...Okay, so who's surprised?

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**From the Author****:** First of all, please take note of the fact that the ages up there near the title are half-completely arbitrary; I have _no idea_ what their relative ages would be. (Too... many... braaats...)

Anyway, as usual, it has taken me another year to acquire inspiration for a chapter. x'D (Sorry!) But, there it is, Part One of our adventure. In truth, I had only expected it to take _one_ chapter to fulfill my original parody idea -- but, uh, I haven't even gotten to the parody part yet. I just started typing stuff up, and next thing I know, it develops a "plot" and "monologues" and... yeesh. All right. We'll really have to get down to business in the next chapter. ;)

_Je vous verrai encore en quelques jours, mes amis_. (I will see you again in a few days, mah friends.)


	8. Final Destination B: II

**Note:** Here's Part Two of our little adventure. However, before we begin, I must give a slight precaution to all you innocent folks: bits of death and gore lurk in this chapter. If your imagination is too strong, or your constitution too light, then this here is your **WARNING**.

It's not fun and games anymore at _this_ carnival. So brace yourselves, please -- and enjoy. :)

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* * *

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**"Gimme Mah Chocolate, Foo'!"**  
Documentary 7: Final Destination B (Part II)

**--x--**

What happened to you and me?  
One moment changed everything.  
It's done, and there's no way to take it back.  
Mistake gave me the pain I never had.  
There is no way to justify it, so  
Now I breathe in and let it go.

This is the end of everything.  
Goodbye, my only...  
I hang my head, and I give in.  
Goodbye, my only...

Friend.

- _My Only_, Goodnight Nurse

**--x--**

After that _repugnant _display of... ugh... I don't even know _what_, L returned nonchalantly to his cotton candy, like nothing at all had happened. A withdrew her hand uncertainly, while L retained his little, unbearable smile. Oh, I could put my fist through that smile. Or rip A's hair out.

Instead, I sat in rigid silence as the carriage descended jerkily to ground level. When we had exited the ride, the bratlings immediately surrounded us, dragging us away excitedly while Mello and What's-His-Face chattered up a storm. It was just as well; I was hardly cognizant enough at the moment to coordinate my own movements, still brooding over what a _bastard_ L was.

Before I knew it, we were standing in line beneath a track bearing cartloads of screaming patrons.

* * *

**Premonition**

**--(A)--**

The children had grabbed us as soon as we'd left the last ride, insisting that we board the monstrous roller coaster they had spotted at the far side of the fair. True, I wasn't really one for gravity-defying twists and hollering at the top of my lungs, but I could understand their enthusiasm. It wasn't often that they could break away from the institution to play like this -- and with _L_, of all people.

We were standing in line as Matt and Mello discussed who should sit where. L commented offhandedly that he would rather take a seat further back, which left Mello with a terrible dilemma, because he had been all but prepared to vie passionately for the position at L's right hand in the very front of the roller coaster, where the gut-pounding thrill was sure to be best.

"No, thank you. I am certain Matt will be happy to share the honor in my stead."

"Aaaawww... please, L? Matt's just gonna scream like a girl! You're so much _cooler_!"

"_Who_ screams like a girl?!"

"Don't even lie! I heard you wailin' back on that Tilt-a-Whirl!"

"Uh-uh! That was 'cause _you_ kept crushing me into the corner like the _fatass_ you are!"

"FAT?! I'm not FAT!"

"Nyaa. Who's the girl, now?"

It was, as we'd found over the course of the evening, a lost cause to attempt to settle the boys down peacefully. Rather, we found it effective to simply ignore the feud and allow Mello to burn out his energy. Fortunately, Matt was very adept at the art of duck-and-evade.

L put a thumb to his lip. "Where will you be sitting?"

Oh, he just had to ask.

I was still inwardly disoriented by his reaction on the Ferris wheel, not knowing exactly what to make of it. Of course, I hadn't been nearly as disconcerted as BB, who was even now petrified in some form of wordless haze. Either that kiss was just too bewildering in general (it sort of was), and he was in a _general_ state of shock, or... the three of us would be fated to trample all over each others' delicate sentiments.

I wasn't blind, after all. I saw the way he watched L inside the teacup, and I think it broke my heart a little to see how I had shrunken into the shadows, out of the periphery of his eyes. In all fairness, it _had_ been eight years, and things were awkward between us even before I took my leave. But even so, it scalded me. His disdain.

"In the back, probably. I'll sit with Near," I answered, not at all remorseful in using a child to elude my fears. "His stomach might still be uneasy."

Near reached obediently for my hand, but was abruptly swatted from behind and pushed in L's direction.

"Oh, no no no. You have an obligation to your little buddy, Boss. Why don't you two just sit wherever -- have some fun? A and I have much to discuss, anyway." An arm was slung around my shoulders, a weight without warmth.

L caught Near gently and sent BB a disapproving glare. Near took hold of L's shirt hem and simply shuffled forward with the line, completely unaffected.

"Behave yourself," L warned.

BB grinned that trouble-grin which I knew all too well.

"Yes, Master."

L gave him a wide-eyed stare before turning away, and I felt the arm wound around my neck tighten slightly. Mello and Matt, now clambering eagerly through the gate, selected the choice seats at the front of the cart ensemble. L and Near picked randomly from the middle seats, somewhere within a sea of strangers, leaving BB and I to meander slowly to the back, respecting my wishes to be as far from the gut-pounding thrill as possible. Anyone who happened to observe us would have thought we were some lovely couple. But I was not naive. I knew a taunt when it was wrapped around my shoulders.

You are always bittersweet, my friend.

"Well now, you've gotten your message across to L. I suppose you'll be leaving soon?" he said conversationally.

"...Yes. Probably. I have to go back for my residency, after all."

He pinched my face, and I pushed his hand away with agitation.

"You know just what to say to make me happy," he cooed. "That's why I like you, A."

_Et tu_, BB. You know just what to say to leave me wounded.

We slid into the seats and waited for the other passengers to get in. Once more, I took inventory of my fellow orphans: Mello and Matt in front, L and Near behind them. A mutter of excitement arose as the safety gear lowered and the carnies came around to check that we were secure. ...Oh, God. I think that one winked at me.

"Oooh, aren't _you _popular? Shabby older men seem fond of you." He cackled.

"Well then. I'm so glad _you're_ with me, since you repulse them effortlessly," I snapped. "Just look how L runs."

His eyes flared, beautiful red, and his lip quivered unconsciously.

"Bitch."

"Man-whore."

The carts began to slide forward, moderately paced. We began to ascend the first arch, which seemed to take forever, clicking loudly with every foot of rail we gained. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. To be honest, this was my first roller coaster, and I was afraid.

"Getting n-n-neeerrrvous, sweetie?" BB jeered.

I turned my head to convey my glare, when I heard a little _clack_ that broke the rhythm of the clicking. It was a faint noise, more felt through the vibrations of my seat than really heard. I reached over and tugged at his sleeve.

"Did you... hear something?"

He blew a raspberry at me. "Lame. Talk to me again when you've got a scarier comeback."

"_Listen_, I --"

The ride took off, launching over the hump of the high rails and coming down at meteor-speed. It stole the very breath from my lungs, but the other passengers roared with excitement, including BB, who was certainly screaming in my ear just to be a bother. The force of the descent shot us through several loops and arches. The air rushing past my head, combined with the screaming of the other passengers, deafened my brain.

And then, in the middle of completing a loop, the front half of the cart ensemble disengaged.

The other passengers didn't even realize what had happened until we began to jerk backwards. The connection broke off cleanly, right between L and Near's seats and the ones in front of them. Sliding quickly in the wrong direction, we could only gape in confusion as the front half continued to speed away, now wobbling unsteadily, then dragging trails of sparks along the rails as the cart began to tip oh-so precariously, and...

_"MATT! MELLO!"_

My vocalized horror was drowned in the new swell of screams that erupted from our half of the carts. I couldn't look away. Oh, my baby... Matt, your skull split open before you even hit the ground. It smashed against the structure of the roller coaster on the way down, smearing dark liquid over everything. Oh, bold and fearless Mello, you fight even as you fall, but when you see your friend shatter before your eyes, we both know that it's over.

Someone yanked my hair. I looked to my left and saw BB shouting something at me, his words lost in the turmoil. His eyes were wide and frightened, and though I could not hear him, the invisible message shaped by his mouth reached my heart.

_There was nothing we could do. Let it go._

You always know just what to say.

I breathed in and out, prayed for strength, and clutched my safety gear as we continued lurching backwards. The passengers shouted profanities, grabbed each other, grabbed the seats, and wailed like nothing I had ever heard. In the distance, I saw L and Near at the front, the hair on the backs of their heads whipping wildly. Suspended in the air between them, L's hand cradled Near's tiny fingers. Our carts began to tilt and shudder now, and if I had known we were approaching another loop from behind... if only I'd known. But there was nothing I could do.

Some seats tilted one way, and some tilted in another. I had barely registered this observation when, all of a sudden, something metallic flashed and flew by my head. In another instant, I recognized it as the point at which the two ends of the circular loop met -- two pieces of track separated by mere inches. It was this portion of railing, combined with the unlucky angle at which L and Near's cart tilted, that swiped their heads clean off their shoulders.

Blood spattered. They were not the only casualties. Cries screeched out from the few remaining passengers, us and the two rows of seats in front of us. We were inching upwards now, the last carts first, backwards up the loop. Slowly, slowly. BB was trembling uncontrollably. He could not look away from the headless corpses, still bouncing inside the carts, tempted by gravity to spill out of their angled seats.

When we reached the top of the loop, we stopped. The ride creaked ominously.

Slowly, so slowly, the safety gear dislodged and swung upward -- which was actually downward, for we were hanging upside down -- and three people fell to their deaths. Corpses slid out with them, headless and already silenced. BB and I flipped over, hanging out of our seats, holding onto the black material of the once-safe gear by sheer will. The only other survivor was a young teenager, much like the ones we had lost, and he cried piteously for his parents, who had already fallen. He declared that it wasn't worth it, none of this was worth it, and let go on his own volition. BB and I breathed heavily, trying with all our power to live. We had to _live_.

Seconds away from death, and all I could think to do was gaze at him again, for what I knew was the last time. Beautiful red. I sacrificed my right arm to touch his cheek, though it was I who cried. He touched my hand, grasped it, and now we were both hanging by just one limb. His quivering lips, dry and moving sadly, molded words that whispered directly to my heart.

_It's time to die._

"I know."

But we wouldn't let go. We wouldn't go down until the carts themselves began to detach from the rails, and now we were falling, and still he held my hand, and he was screaming, and I was breathless, but I would always remember that. There was nothing I was more aware of.

He held my hand.

...

"Behave yourself."

**--(B)--**

I smiled sweetly.

"Yes, master."

He shot me a suspicious stare, then turned away and shuffled forward with his protégé. The passengers from the last ride were dragging themselves out of the seats now, while Mello and Redhead leaned eagerly against the gated entrance. When the carny had cleared the passengers out and started toward the gate, the line inched forward slightly in anticipation. I moved to follow, but heard a hitch of breath and found my arm suddenly empty.

A shuddered and clutched at her chest, knees buckling. Her breathing became loud and ragged, alerting the others to her distress. Before I could determine the problem, someone grabbed my arm and forced me around.

"What did you do?" L growled, voice low.

"I didn't _do_ anything," I said gruffly, shoving him off.

"Hey, lovebirds. You gettin' on or what?" interrupted the carny, holding the entrance open and popping his gum most obnoxiously.

"No..."

A rose cautiously from the ground, stumbling slightly. Then, in an unexpected burst of energy, she grabbed both Blondie and Redhead by the backs of their shirts, hauling them roughly out of line. The people around us watched her with a mixture of confusion and amusement, then shouldered past us and piled into the ride. L and I followed her, called out to her, but she ignored us soundly and toted the brats away, despite their squirming and kicking.

"Hey! HEY! You made us lose our place in line!!"

"Oww... A, that's my hair..."

As abruptly as she had started, she stopped, twisting them around. To our collective astonishment, she hugged them both with great force, bowing her head between their shoulders and _sobbing_. The boys exchanged baffled looks over her head, Mello conflicted somewhere between outrage and sympathy, while his counterpart was entirely dumbfounded. Redhead patted her awkwardly on the back.

L and I exchanged glances as well.

"Like I said," I muttered sourly. "Not my fault."

"I find your fixation with blame to be quite selfish," he retorted. "If I am not mistaken, your colleague is still in hysterics."

I gaped at him incredulously.

"What do you expect _me_ to do?!"

"You know her best. Perhaps that is something only you can ascertain."

"Screw you!" I shouted, my blood beginning to boil. "If _you're_ so damn _worried_, you can figure it out for yourself, oh single-greatest-detective!"

"Guys--"

"As usual, you are petty and unreasonable," he stated, indifferent to my outburst.

I opened my mouth to yell.

"_Guys_!" Redhead interjected. "Where's Near?"

Thick silence descended upon our group, and A released her hold on the juveniles. Five pairs of eyes looked every which way in search of the boy who was, indeed, missing. From the edge of my vision, I saw A trek forward hesitantly, her gaze fixed on something in the distance. Fearfully, delicately, she revealed the answer.

"...All alone?"

We turned and stared at the roller coaster, barreling swiftly across the tracks.

"Oh, there!" What's-His-Face said excitedly, pointing in a vague direction. "I see him!"

"Hmph. Impatient little bugger," Mello grouched.

His friend shrugged. "Well, looks like he's--"

Hellish screams erupted, both from the ride above and the witnesses lined below. We watched in muted consternation as the train of seats were cleaved in half, one portion continuing to speed over the rails and the other jerking backward. For a moment, they were merely two processions traveling steadily in opposite directions. Then, out of nowhere, bodies were falling, blood was trailing, heads were flung from the seats of the other half -- and now the last batch of survivors had halted at the top of a track loop, dangling upside-down. A blotch of white could be seen at the apex, holding on for dear life to the seat at the very back, and yes, all alone. Though not for long. Without warning, the carts jolted off the rails, and the white blotch plummeted helplessly, the heavy metal carts crushing down on him as they fell.

At my side, Mello thundered out a cry of anguish, heard far above the final wails of the doomed.

_Near_.

* * *

**This is Madness**

**--x--**

It was after the cops had been called in, after everyone had been evacuated from the carnival, and we were sitting on the edge of a curb now, waiting for Watari to come -- it was after everything had happened that I realized. It was something so fundamental to my being that I had begun to ignore it subconsciously, remaining blissfully unaware of what was now so strikingly obvious.

Our lifespans had dropped to nothing, and yet we were alive.

The parking lot was dark and mostly empty, the only illumination thrown down in patches by the streetlights scattered however-many meters apart. I was currently pacing the sidewalk, hands in pockets, deep in thought. L was perched near the curb, his eyes downcast and his thumb touching his mouth. A was sitting beside him, one arm wrapped around herself and her free hand holding her forehead. Redhead knelt on her other side, preoccupied with tending to his friend. Mello... was deeply unsettled. He sat with his head in his knees, tugging loosely at his hair and speaking to no one. Every now and then, A would get up and help comfort the blonde, who in response would do no more than moan, very softly.

She stroked his golden hair just one last time before getting up and returning to her post beside L. I cut her off midway. A looked up, my eyes flickered to the side, and she understood. We needed to talk privately.

"You knew."

"Yes."

She paused and pushed some hair behind her ear.

"I thought you would, too."

My jaw clenched. "Well. Forgive _me_."

"I'm not blaming you," she murmured, rubbing her eyes wearily. "...There was nothing we could do."

"Fine. But just how did you know?"

Here, she clenched her right hand, cupping it gently with her left.

"I knew, because it happened. We got on, and we were killed."

"What do you mean it _happened_?" I snapped, growing impatient with her obscurity.

She shook her head and said, "It happened. We all got on the roller coaster. You and I were arguing, and the ride started, and it was fine for a while..." She rubbed at her forehead before continuing. "We were in that last seat, BB; we watched them die. It happened just the same as what you'd seen tonight. Then we died, I was sure we died, and I couldn't breathe..." She paused. "But when I looked again, it was -- the world -- had turned back ten minutes. We were standing in line again. Alive."

A kept rubbing at her forehead, not really tending to the head, I noticed, but trying to hide her eyes. "I thought... you could see the numbers, and I wondered why you didn't know. You were... surprised to die."

I shoved my hands back in my pockets and turned away, tired of watching her cry.

"I see," I commented mildly. "Then, I suppose your foresight has saved us all. Minus one, of course." I stared up at the sky, black and endless, neither the stars nor the moon brave enough to disturb the vacuum. "Or, perhaps not. I think you will find it interesting that our lifespans are presently at zero."

I heard her footsteps approach and felt her hand touch my arm.

"What?"

Her eyes were lightly moistened.

"Either we're dead right now," I continued, "or--"

"Mello!"

A streak of blonde bolted across the parking lot, followed at the heels by a hollering redhead, beseeching the blonde to come back. L sprang up, nodded to us, and we were after them in an instant. Mello was screaming something unintelligible, making a beeline for the carnival entrance, which was still brightly lit and almost insulting in its gaiety. The rest of the park was dark, devoid of life, with yellow police tape encircling the roller coaster area. At the carnival entrance, Redhead caught his wayward friend and pulled him around, yelling in his face.

"WHAT IF HE'S NOT DEAD?!" Mello roared back, swinging his fists without aim. His eyes were wide and frantic. "WHAT IF HE'S STUCK -- WHAT IF HE'S WAITING FOR US?!"

"He's DEAD, Mel! The boy is _dead_!! They put his body in a bag, and they took him, and he's _not there_!" What's-His-Face shouted.

They wrestled as they argued. Mello pinned him fiercely against one of the pillars supporting the carnival's welcome sign. Redhead squirmed out of the hold, but Mello caught him by the waist and they twisted, falling into a writhing heap on the ground. Redhead was on top. Mello swore and kicked wildly. We were approaching the cemented pavement, agreeing that I would hold my kid, A would hold hers, and L would lecture -- because L was L, and there was no one else that could get through to Mello. But we never even reached the sidewalk.

There was a creak, a hiss, and a blink of the lights, before the huge sign suspended above the entrance _dropped_.

I halted. A kept going. L blocked her. Sparks, broken glass, and fragments of metal scattered and hit us square in the face, we were so close. There was blood, too. A's kid was crushed and bleeding directly under the sign. Mello was ensnared beneath him, his eyes even more impossibly wide. His face was slashed and bruised, but when his mouth began to move, tremulously, we knew he was alive.

"M...Ma..."

Redhead must have cushioned the blow, somehow.

"...aatt..."

Blood oozed from the corner of his lips. A drew closer, hypnotized. Horrified. She was stepping onto the pavement now, unhindered by the dark fluid seeping around her shoes, reaching for the mound of metal and flesh. The little orphan boy, whom she had mothered and coddled so many years ago, was now crushed dead. Yet his friend was still here, just barely here. I think she would have given anything to save him.

It was not to be. I saw the entrance pillars sway, and L saw it too. He grabbed her and we ran like hell, back through the parking lot, as two steel pillars collapsed over the sign and the sidewalk, finishing what fate had left unfinished. The skull with the sprawl of golden hair was shattered.

**--x--**

As soon as we returned to the curb, L's cell phone jingled.

He picked the phone from his pocket, holding it by the antenna with his thumb and forefinger. His bangs covered his eyes as he answered, grimly, "Watari." He listened to the other line while A and I waited in silence. A seemed particularly troubled, standing motionless with her hands clenched together.

Eventually, L closed his eyes and brought the phone away from his head to address us. "There has been a problem with the vehicle. Watari cannot retrieve us for at least another three hours." It was already after ten.

"We should just find a bus or something," I mumbled.

L nodded and relayed the plan to Watari. Meanwhile, I thought of the bodies we had left in front of the carnival, and I wondered how he would manage to break the news to the old man.

"Here, lemme see that," I said, reaching for the phone. "I'll tell him -- AH, SHIT!"

I withdrew my hand.

L gave me a half-questioning, half-admonishing look. "What is it?"

"It's--"

I snatched the cell phone and hurled it into the distance.

"B!"

The phone bounced once against the asphalt, then exploded. The fire from the combustion continued to burn persistently on the black pavement, a pyre that was several times larger than the phone itself. The three of us watched wordlessly.

"...Death by overheated phone battery," L muttered after some time. "It is almost comical."

"Shut _up_. Don't _say_ that."

I threw him a sharp glance, then did a double-take, confirming that I had indeed found something unexpected.

I pinched A on the arm.

"_Ow_. Hey."

She rubbed the spot and glared.

"It's back," I whispered.

"What?"

"L's lifespan."

She looked up at me blankly for some moments before turning to L, who was still staring expressionlessly at the burning cell phone. She opened her mouth to speak, but I already knew what she was thinking, because I was thinking it, too.

Is it possible to save someone?

A crack of thunder sounded, and before we could so much as process the noise, we were drenched in a torrent of rain.

**--x--**

It was loud, it was wet, my feet hurt, and we had been walking down this street for who-knows-how-long, searching for a bus stop that may or may not exist. L withstood the elements with his usual impassive grace, leading the way down the hopelessly dark and empty street. My vision was actually best during the night, and perhaps I should have been the one leading, but with the blasted rain in my face, I couldn't keep my eyes open long enough to see much more than the others. Besides, I was too miserable to play leader -- too busy brooding over the recent turn of events.

"BB..."

And, as though things weren't wonderful enough, _she _was about to engage me in some kind of conversation.

Kill me now.

"What?" I snarled, swiping water and hair away from my face.

She looked down and didn't answer.

"I said, _what_?"

She seemed conflicted, as though considering whether or not she should really say what she had intended to say. God. It was that kind of stupid hesitation that always provoked me. If there was something to be said, say it. I would have liked nothing more than to shout that precious piece of philosophy into her face and just _shake_ it out of her.

"Didn't you ever wonder where I was?" she murmured at last. It was uttered at a frequency half lost in the pounding rain, and I had to strain to hear it, despite the fact that she was right beside me. "Why didn't you... ever search for me?"

I think -- yes, I do believe -- I smiled. Smirked. Flat-out beamed like the hellion I was.

Oh, A. You know just what to say to make me happy.

"Now, now, honey," I said, patting her on the head. "Let's not be selfish. You know L is a very busy man. He can't go chasing after every little gumdrop that rolls off his desk and out of his orphanage. Especially since that sweet piece of artificial flavoring turned its back on the very person who bothered to buy it from the streetside candy machine in the first place." I giggled and shook my head, like it was the funniest thing since the invention of segways. "You understand, don't you, love?"

She merely stared ahead, expression guarded.

"I didn't ask why L wouldn't look for me," she said. "I wanted to know why you never did."

I slung an arm around her shoulders and just grinned. "Well, L and me, we're like this," I held up a hand, intertwining the index and middle fingers. "So you see, his resentment is my resentment. His work is my work." I leaned my head against hers, and whispered, with something of a scandalous undertone, "His pleasure... is _my _pleasure."

She blinked at me calmly, then looked to L, who was so far ahead of us that he hadn't heard a word.

"That's not true," A stated. Her voice was so assured that it chipped away at my good mood. My arm tightened reflexively around her neck.

Yeah. It wasn't true.

"Oh?" I replied stiffly.

She sighed, and the breath released in a cloud of mist that was torn asunder by the raindrops spearing down. England was always cold at night, regardless of the season. Cold. I wondered if that was what had suddenly rendered my confidence brittle.

"I know L. He doesn't mingle, and he doesn't befriend. You are his assistant, or his coworker maybe, but you will never be his equal," she began. My eyes narrowed down at her. "As long as he lives, you are nothing and no one. As soon as he dies, you are left to fill the vacancy of a man whom you can never emulate. And you, yourself, are still no one." My arm retracted, at once repulsed by the short devil beside me, murmuring evil things I didn't want to hear. "That is, after all, the reason why I 'rolled off his desk.' So to speak."

I told myself that the bitter pang jolting through my insides was unexpected, incomprehensible. Though, really, it wasn't. I knew that a fragile string in my heart had just been thrummed and snapped. Her aim was perfect.

But then, so was mine. And this was war.

"Silly girl," I replied with a forced laugh, "so that's what you tell yourself! Ah, well, you always _were_ the self-pitying type. But I know why you left. You were stressed, you were scared, and you were so very _frail_. Never could live up to L's expectations, or handle the pressure of trying. That's just how you are. When the heat turns on too hot, you run your ass right out of the kitchen."

I folded my arms behind my back and tilted my head, as though in thought. "Unless, of course, you can find someone to cling to. I know your game, A -- I know all your games. And your moves are always weak. When the going gets tough, you rely on someone else to save you." I stared her in the eye. "But don't you try and lean on me; you're a weight I just don't want. The buddy-buddy sentiment between us was discarded on your way out of Wammy's."

And I noted, with perhaps a sick satisfaction, that it was not the rain which caused the welling of moisture in her eyes. Frail, feather grey. Cocky with my regain of the upper hand, I added, "You never were suited to become L's partner, anyway."

That brought the fire back into her eyes.

"Funny," she barked, though the quiver of her lip did not escape my notice. "That's not how I remember it. Let's see. Why _did_ he make you his sidekick?" My teeth clenched, and I thought she would stop there, where the damage of the inquiry was already searing.

"Oh, wait. Now I do recall. It just happened to fall on you, because the number one candidate declined, and you were the _backup_."

As my fist flew on its unwavering course, time seemed to slow and stunt. In those elongated moments, I had a revelation. The two fundamental pillars of understanding, to which the threadbare wire of our trust was tied, had been broken. She had breached the unspeakable subject: the utter dispensability of my existence. Meanwhile, I had abused her intimate confidence -- scorned her vulnerable attachment to me. The bruising exchange and spiteful ripostes...

This was madness.

It was no use. Too late had I recognized the errors for what they were. I struck her across the face, hard, with all the force and intention of _breaking_ her. And I could never, never take it back. I think... I wished I could. I wished I hadn't knocked her into that pool of rainwater in the middle of the road, wished I hadn't soaked her to the bone or created that terrible contusion around her left eye. I wished I could have gone my whole life without watching her sit in a dirty puddle and cry.

Later, I would wish that crackpot of a driver had just turned on the damn headlights.

It all happened so fast. My gaze was on her, on her only, until something dark and wild hurtled down the street, swerved, and crashed. It was bumper cars all over again, and I could only wonder where that redheaded brat was, because wasn't he the one who was supposed to dodge for her? But he was dead. This wasn't his fault, no, the blame was on... well. The fender hit her body, plowed it a good several meters around in an arc, headed back towards me -- but then her arm lodged in the front wheel, causing the car to shudder and stop just short of where I stood.

Beloved grey.

* * *

**Things Never Said**

**--x--**

The driver had stumbled out, freaked, wailed, apologized, and generally made himself useless. L had been grazed on the arm as the car passed him, but I was perfectly fine. He and I stood near the darkened puddle, where the car had finally bumbled to a stop, observing the scene. L's eyes were wide, wider than usual, and the absentminded thumb-biting which ate in too deep into the flesh, dribbling blood down his pale hand, was the only indication that he had lost his composure. If only for a moment.

The driver was still wailing, still groveling at our feet, "Oh, please, I didn't mean to!" over and over. It was a teenager, one who must have been too young to even possess a driver's license. I recalled, briefly, having seen this boy in line behind us for the roller coaster. His parents had been with him at the time.

"Do you have a cell phone?" was the only thing L said.

The kid sobbed and pointed inside the car. L flicked on the overhead light and crawled in to search the seats. I was kneeling down and checking... yes, the body was without a pulse. Her lifespan was rightfully zero.

And mine -- I saw it on the surface of the illuminated, bloody puddle -- mine had returned.

**--x--**

We were sitting in the ambulance now. Sirens blared and police cars hovered around our vehicle, escorting us. The kid had been hauled into one of those cars, pleading his innocence. Watari had been called to meet us at the hospital.

..._they said my heart couldn't be resuscitated_...

First, we had to head back to the carnival and collect the other casualties.

_Actually, the carnival was Watari's idea. I just have bad timing._

The paramedics sat nearby, but they had long declared her dead and were merely waiting for us to arrive at our destination. I was at her side, holding on to her bruised and bloodied hand. The right one. The one still intact. L was huddled into his knees on her other side, examining the bruise over her eye that seemed somehow unlike her other injuries. I knew for sure that he would realize what had happened. Or perhaps he already had, but he said nothing of it. I knew he'd never forgive me.

_That's okay._

But A would. A would forgive me, even if...

_Would you save me?_

...I wouldn't.

But in the end, it was she who saved me. Somehow.

L shifted his legs and averted his gaze from the corpse. He nibbled at his bottom lip and said, "The repeated occurrence of such accidents, whose sheer improbability is overwhelming, baffles me. I can scarcely... believe what has passed before my eyes. It is as though there were someone coordinating these heinous incidents -- but the possibility of that is less than 0.02 percent." Then he clutched at his knees, face darkening, and mumbled, "However, assuming it _were_ possible, and I should ever find the one responsible..."

_Red was always my favorite color._

My eyes shot wide, peering slowly around.

L was still crouched and looking away, muttering death threats to some imaginary perpetrator of tonight's tragedies. The paramedics were leaning over the front seats, speaking with the driver. In truth, I hadn't needed to look to convince myself that none of them had whispered those words. I looked down at the corpse, whose lips were closed and still. I knew that voice by heart.

_Beautiful Red, bid him goodbye for us both._

Red.

The numbers above L's head were rapidly falling. The same was true for the paramedics. I stared into the glass door of a supply cabinet, and saw that my lifespan was no exception. Perhaps I should have been alarmed, or plotting my escape, but I wasn't and I didn't. It was just as I had always believed. Death, without fail, would claim you when it was your time. Our time was now.

L was still speaking about something or other -- I don't know what, it didn't matter -- as I reached over the corpse and fisted his old white shirt, pulling him toward me. I leaned my head against his shoulder and placed A's good hand on his knee. He froze up under the contact. Meanwhile, the blue and red flashes of the sirens scattered briefly over his face. Like carnival lights.

I closed my eyes and murmured into his neck. "When the light hits your eyes, just like that..." Tires screeched loudly, we jostled, and I wondered if he could still hear me, because this was the only time I could ever let him know. "L... I see the stars."

**-x-**

All-Alone.

What's-His-Face.

Boldest Gold.

Beloved Grey.

We will follow you to the grave.

* * *

**From the Author****:** AND THEY ALL FALL DOWN. :'D

(Poor Matt! He was "What's-His-Face" to the very end...)

Okay, so my original plan had been to take the hilariously ridiculous death scenes from Final Destination and bestow them upon the DN cast. Unfortunately, the story has convoluted into something far more angsty than funny. I don't know what it is; I just can't KILL THEM SUCKERS without feeling a horrible rip in my soul. Kira makes it look so easy (that jerk).

So! Instead of that quick and lovely doom-ride-of-death, each of the Wammy babies was left to suffer an individual, gruesome demise. Naturally, the moral of the story is this: if you're gonna die, _really_ gonna die, then spare yourself the trouble and just DIE already.

...On that note, please enjoy the rest of your day. :)


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